Domestic Bliss
by erindarroch
Summary: Han and Leia forever. Completely AU post-RotJ vignettes and longer chapters featuring our favourite couple playing house. For the record, we utterly ignore Mickey Mouse canon. Never happened. These two will be together forever, and nobody gets murdered. Co-authored with Justine Graham (justinegraham). We don't mind where you leave your reviews; we share them with each other!
1. Chapter 1 - Now and Forever

**Authors' Note:** Great minds think alike! ;) We're aware that there are a number of new fics by various authors, all featuring settings and themes eerily similar to those explored in this series. It's pure coincidence—or perhaps a sort of _zeitgeist_ at work in the fandom, we suppose. Someone proposed the theory that we're all so gutted over how negatively they depicted the marriage between Han and Leia in TFA, we've resorted to writing assorted antidotes to counteract that poison. In any case, we trust that the various writing styles and approaches we use are dissimilar enough to allow for variations on a theme. There's always room for more stories about Han and Leia canoodling, right? =)

\- Erin & Justine

 **Now and Forever**

 **By Erin Darroch and Justine Graham**

 **::**

 _What do I_ want _?_ _Well now...I guess that's a really good question, Princess._

Breathing hard, Han Solo flopped onto his back in his bunk and stretched out, allowing his body to begin cooling off in the aftermath of what had been a thoroughly enjoyable half-hour spent with the love of his life. He turned his head against the pillow to look at her, smiling at the sight of her flushed skin and wild hair. Leia Organa was breathing hard, too, and she looked every bit as happy and relaxed as Han felt. The steady hum of the hyperdrive engine added a soothing quality to the moment, helping to center his thoughts; he reached out one hand to entwine his fingers with hers as he contemplated the idle question she'd posed just before they'd tumbled, laughing, into the bunk together. Leia gave his hand a light squeeze in return, and rolled her head to the side to look at him. Stroking her palm lightly with the pad of his thumb, Han considered for a moment.

 _What, exactly,_ do _I want?_

It was a question he'd never asked himself—not _really_ ; in the past fifteen years he'd seldom slowed down long enough to think about such things. It simply wasn't in his nature to indulge in extensive self-reflection anyway, or to ponder over possible futures. For most of his life, he'd lived in the moment, making split-second decisions and trusting to his skill and good luck to see him through, and he didn't see much advantage in changing any of that now. Leia hadn't seemed to attach much significance to the question when she'd asked it, and she didn't seem preoccupied with waiting for his answer now. In fact, it appeared as though she'd forgotten ever asking in the first place. But her idle query had rattled around in Han's mind like a loose ball bearing, finally falling smoothly into place when he paused long enough to give it serious consideration. He realized immediately, and with a sense of calm certainty, that he knew the answer.

"You asked what I want..." Han began somewhat haltingly, breaking the companionable silence that had fallen between them. He cleared his throat and watched Leia's eyes, waiting until she'd caught up to his train of thought before he continued. "What I want is _this_ , Leia...with you." He drew a deep breath and expelled it in a long sigh that felt almost like relief. "For the rest of my life," he concluded, realizing as the words left his mouth that he'd never meant anything more sincerely.

Leia was still for a long moment, though Han could feel the flutter of her pulse under his fingertips where they rested on her wrist. "The rest of your life, huh?" she queried softly. She released his hand, tipped up onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow so she could meet his gaze more directly. "That's some commitment, Hotshot," she teased. "The 'rest of your life' could be a very long time indeed..."

"Sure hope so," Han replied fervently. He scanned her face, wondering if he should have made his feelings even more explicit, or if he should have asked the next obvious question first.

"The rest of your life..." Leia echoed again. Her dark eyes slowly widened in wonder as she stared down at him, and he stared back with an unwavering gaze. "Han...you _mean_ that," she murmured. It wasn't a question; it was a revelation. Leia's eyes shone as she gazed down at him, reflecting pure joy as she processed the implications of what he'd said.

Somewhere deep inside his chest, Han felt a hard little knot, the last of its kind, loosen and begin to unravel. He ventured a smile. "Yeah," Han held her gaze for a moment longer, and then gave a little nod as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I mean it." He gave a little shrug. "We can work out the logistics later."

Leia's sudden smile was as luminous as a hypergiant star. Han grinned back, feeling a touch of genuine relief as he witnessed her response. Still, he didn't want to make assumptions or appear to take anything for granted. He reached up to smooth her dark hair out of her eyes, and then cradled her face in his hands. "Is that what _you_ want, Sweetheart? Together forever, and all that mushy stuff?"

Leia answered by leaning in and giving him a kiss so tender it made Han's throat close up, an eloquent kiss that told him everything he needed to know. They parted after a moment and Leia met his gaze once more, her eyes sparkling with love and happiness.

"All that mushy stuff _forever?_ " she smiled. "Sounds pretty good to me."

 **::**

 **End note:** This series follows "The Only Constant" (also on this archive) in chronology. See the end of chapter seven of that fic if you want to read about Leia granting Han access to the apartment featured in this story.

 **Also:** Thanks for reading and reviewing! We really enjoy hearing if you enjoy reading what we enjoy writing! :D


	2. Chapter 2 - House and Home

**::**

 **House and Home**

 **By Justine Graham and Erin Darroch**

 **::**

 _Home_ was certainly not the first word that came to Han Solo's mind when he finally reached the address Leia had given him and looked up at the ultra-modern chromium and glassine façade of the high-rise apartment building overlooking Lumelemi Harbor. The crowded environs of downtown Hanna City were even more tightly congested near the Silver Sea, and Leia's new official residence was perched right on the edge of the busy harbor, within sight of the ocean. The mixed residential and business district had long ago been pedestrianized, so Han had been forced to leave his rented speeder in the nearest available docking station almost half a kilometer away, and then to cover the rest of the distance on foot.

After wending his way through narrow, paved chasms between tall buildings, and then along a lushly landscaped pedestrian thoroughfare that stretched between the districts, he'd finally emerged onto the broad and bustling boardwalk that separated the towering high-rises from the water. Stopping for a moment at the head of the footpath, Han regarded the multi-story structure with a calculating eye. Craning his neck back and shielding his eyes from the glare of the reflected late-afternoon sun, he allowed his gaze to track straight up to the top and back again, counting the floors. He grimaced; the apartment allocated to Leia was on the ninth level, just above the midway point, meaning their options for escape, if it ever came to that, would be sorely limited. Too high to permit a safe jump from a balcony or window, the apartment would also be too low to allow for a mid-air extraction on anything larger than a two-seater airspeeder. Casting his gaze around the congested cityscape, Han wondered fleetingly how tricky it would be for him to get the _Millennium Falcon_ into position above the roof, and how long it would take the local authorities to turn up if he decided to find out.

Suddenly conscious of the rather darkly pessimistic path his thoughts had taken, Han gave a rueful shake of his head. _Old habits die hard_ , he mused, shrugging to himself as he stepped out of the flow of pedestrian traffic and crossed over to lean against the railing at the edge of the wide harbor. The smell of the salt sea rose sharply on the breeze drifting off the water, where myriad watercraft plied the grey-blue depths of the bustling port. In all likelihood, Han knew, the biggest threat they would face here would be from the galactic gossip reporters, or simply the prying eyes of curious neighbors, intent on catching a glimpse of the last Princess of Alderaan and her soon-to-be live-in Corellian companion. Still, he allowed privately, the war wasn't _quite_ over. There were plenty of Imperialists still roaming the galaxy, and some of them could be lurking here on Chandrila. Dropping his hand down to his thigh, he ran his thumb over the grip of his blaster, reassuring himself that though he lacked a ship within easy reach, he could still shoot his way out of any tricky situations, if necessary. He wasn't prepared to let down his guard just yet.

Feeling an uneasy itch between his shoulder blades as those thoughts crossed his mind, Han turned his back on the water, leaned casually against the railing and cast an appraising look in both directions. Though he hadn't thought it possible, the boardwalk was even busier than it had been five minutes ago, now thronged as it was with business types leaving work. Flooding out of the high-rise office buildings that lined the quay, they joined the flow of blue-skinned Pantorans and humans of every hue, size and shape, along with a dozen other species from around the galaxy. There were even a few droids that trundled or whirred along the thoroughfare in both directions. Although there were no obvious threats in sight, to Han the entire scene felt a little surreal. Countless worlds still remained within the choking grip of Imperial rule, and millions of lives were still governed by oppression and controlled by fear. Coruscant, for one, was presently in the midst of a bloody civil war that saw its citizens fighting one another in the streets as both Imperial and Alliance forces converged there in a desperate battle for supremacy. But here, in this halcyon setting, it was easy to forget about all of that for a while. In this little corner of the galaxy, everything seemed peaceful and domestic—almost idyllic. Han watched for a moment longer, noting how the locals out for exercise or walking their pets mingled with young couples strolling hand-in-hand, and families corralling their young.

Han blinked. Now _that_ was an element of everyday life he certainly wasn't used to, and hadn't truly considered up until now: children. They were everywhere on the boardwalk, boisterously running, jumping, yelling— _so much yelling._ The youngest kids seemed fascinated by the flocks of bulabirds that called loudly and circled overhead. The children ducked and squealed with delight as the birds dived down to capture bits of food tossed to them, and chased after the ones that ambled along the boardwalk with their peculiar bobbing gait. Ordinarily, when a small screeching creature ran towards Han with its mouth wide open and its limbs flailing, his first instinct was to blast it. He decided he'd better get a handle on _that_ particular reflex, and fast.

Glancing back up at the glossy apartment building, Han released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. So, _this was it_ : his first planetside home since he'd left Corellia at age sixteen. That thought produced a peculiar little flutter somewhere deep in his gut, a strangely familiar blend of nervousness and eager anticipation that was not unlike the feeling he used to get when he was younger and first ventured into new and interesting corners of the galaxy. Although the apartment had been officially allocated to Leia alone—her role in the newly established Provisional Senate required her to reside within easy commuting distance of the Senate Building on Eleutherian Plaza—she'd immediately granted Han equal access, astutely pointing out that he was unlikely to take up the offer of a bunk in the officers' quarters along the quay, and she most certainly wasn't planning to trek to the spaceport every night to sleep aboard the _Falcon_ ; so, logistically, it made sense that they would share this place.

Han couldn't suppress a faint smile at the idea of moving in with Leia, setting up a cozy household, and sharing a life together. It was so far outside his experience that it seemed like something from a sappy holodrama; one of those drippy, happily-ever-after programs that Chewie liked to watch. When Leia had first offered Han access to the apartment, he'd teased her a little about trying to domesticate him. Indeed, there had been a time, not that long ago, when the mere suggestion of him remaining in one spot—or, even worse, putting down roots—would have sent Han heading for open skies without a backward glance. Now, he was surprised by just how much he wanted their constant state of flux to be over.

Despite his initial misgivings, he'd swiftly decided that, after all they'd been through together, he wasn't going to let the minor threat of _domestication_ put him off, even if the reality of their current situations meant they wouldn't be able to enjoy the new arrangement for some time to come. Although both he and Leia had responsibilities to uphold as part of the Alliance's continuing efforts to beat back the surviving Grand Admirals from the Core, things were, much to Han's amazed relief, actually beginning to settle down. Virtually everyone they'd been running and hiding from for the past few years was either dead or in full retreat, and even Han's next official mission for the Alliance seemed a bit routine, a more-or-less conventional routing of a small Imperial outpost on Galantos. After that, he'd be long overdue a month's furlough, the first such break since Endor. The personnel under his command would no doubt use the time to return to their homeworlds to visit family and friends they hadn't seen in years, Chewie would head to Kashyyyk to spend time with his wife and son, and Han...well, Han would return _here_ , to Leia.

 _Home._

He realized with a sudden sense of clarity and deep conviction how much he _wanted_ this with Leia; he wanted it badly, as much as he'd ever wanted anything in his life. She made him feel desired and loved in a way he had never experienced before—had never dared imagine he would feel—and the intensity with which he longed to return that feeling of sanctuary was powerful enough to raise a choking lump in his throat. He couldn't envision taking this step with anyone _but_ Leia, and although the idea of setting up a permanent household seemed almost as alien an endeavor as flying blind through an uncharted star system, setting up a permanent household with his spirited princess somehow felt just right.

Han gave the structure one last appraising glance. This imposing piece of modern architectural design represented more than just a place to live, he realized; this was his _future_ , looming large and unfamiliar, but bright and shining all the same. He pushed off the rail and headed towards it.

 **::**


	3. Chapter 3 - You and Me

**Authors' Notes:** This chapter is the first (probably of many) that earn this story its _**'M'**_ rating. Also, this was supposed to be a brief, fluffy little chapter but, apparently, neither one of us is capable of either _brief_ or purely _fluffy_ , alas. Adult content, some angst. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and followed this fic so far; we have a few more updates coming after this one. Stay tuned!

 **You and Me**

By Justine Graham and Erin Darroch

Leia Organa stepped through the sliding doors that led from the sheltered interior of the water taxi out onto the wide wooden deck and then inhaled deeply, enjoying the sharp tang of the salty sea air. Although the seating area inside the hovercraft—entirely enclosed within glassine panels—was comfortable enough and offered unobstructed views of Lumelemi harbor, the weather was simply too beautiful to spend the entire duration of the twenty-minute ferry indoors.

A fine spray rose from the repulsors that held the craft aloft as it zipped along, hovering about a half meter above the surface, coating sections of the polished wooden deck with a film of salt water that glinted in the late-afternoon light. Minding her footing, Leia made her way carefully to the edge of the deck and leaned on her forearms against the cool metal rail. The rays of the setting sun had turned the normally deep-blue depths of the harbor into shimmering liquid gold, and the stiffening breeze was starting to kick up a gentle swell. All around the taxi, Leia watched with interest as watercraft of every description criss-crossed the bustling harbor, from commercial ships heading in to unload their cargo, to various forms of pleasure craft, waveriders, and old-fashioned sailing vessels making their way to shore to berth for the night.

Leia closed her eyes and tipped her face to the warmth of the lowering sun, enjoying the exhilarating rush of the breeze that mingled with the excitement bubbling up inside her at the thought of seeing her new apartment—the home she would be sharing with Han Solo—for the first time.

 _Home_. It was a word Leia had all but forgotten—had deliberately _tried_ to forget. It had been virtually eliminated from her vocabulary on the day Alderaan was destroyed, and she'd been continually on the move ever since, fleeing from one temporary base to another, darting from one mission to the next, trying with all her might to make her losses count for something. Now, almost seven months after the destruction of the second Death Star and with the ragged Imperial remnants fleeing the Core, she dared to hope that the Alliance was actually going to win the war and bring to fruition the goal for which her parents and her friends—and so many others—had paid the ultimate price. Finally, with the end in sight, she dared to think of home.

In anticipation of victory, the Alliance High Command had already begun preparations for making the transition to a new government. As a high-profile public figure and one of the leaders of the Rebellion, Leia had accepted an appointment on the Provisional Council, along with the allocation of an official residence within easy commuting distance of the new Senate Building. The apartment on the harbor's edge was likely to be only a temporary home, but it promised to be a significant improvement upon her cramped cabin aboard _Home One,_ or any of the numerous tiny, stark quarters she'd been housed in on hastily thrown-together military bases around the galaxy. And, unlike any of the other places she'd inhabited over the past few years, this time she wouldn't be living alone.

The little thrum of anticipation fluttering in the pit of her stomach increased tenfold as she caught sight of the modern chromium and glassine structure in the distance, easily distinguishable from the rest of the buildings on the boardwalk by the rounded facade of its sides and the broad, brightly colored awning that spanned the front of the building at street level. She imagined Han waiting for her there and felt her pulse race a little faster. By the time the taxi slipped into its berth against the dock, her heart was beating a staccato rhythm against her ribs and she had to expend some effort to calm her breathing.

Taking advantage of the slight delay while the taxi was being secured in its moorings, she scanned the wharf for any signs of suspicious activity, acutely aware that there could be someone amongst the crowd who wished her ill. Though the war was drawing to a close, she'd long been a highly visible symbol of the Rebellion and it was an uncomfortable but inescapable truth that she still represented an attractive target for assassination. Alliance picket ships maintained a perimeter around the planet to forestall the possibility of a concerted military attack, but individual fanatics could still easily slip through the streets of Hanna City unnoticed, and Leia was mindful of the need to remain vigilant in such a public location.

She felt a flash of gratitude that she need not rely solely on her eyes and ears for information, though; she had another sort of vision at her disposal, one that transcended the limitations of her physical body. Even as she scanned the milling crowd with her eyes, she reached out with the Force to ascertain any potential dangers, drawing upon the months of training she'd had with Luke when they were both still on Endor. It was only the start of what she hoped would be a steady development of her newfound powers, but it was already proving useful in ways she hadn't even imagined. Opening her senses to the energies of the myriad beings criss-crossing the wharf and the broader boardwalk beyond, she was relieved to find that they were all largely oblivious to her presence, intent as they were upon their own business and personal concerns.

Sensing no threats, she extended her senses a little further, penetrating through the turbulent sea of life and emotion flowing all around her, searching for Han's distinctive and familiar energy—one that drew her towards it like a beacon in the darkness. His was the first such signature she'd learned to identify in that mysterious dimension, and she'd practiced that particular skill almost every day since, honing it to perfection. She smiled when she found him, enjoying the sensation of his presence nearby and delighting in the fact that the myriad emotions she could sense swirling about him closely mirrored her own.

After the captain gave the all-clear to disembark, Leia readjusted the strap of the leather satchel slung over her shoulder, holding it securely against her body with a tight grip, and joined the queue of beings already lined up at the exit ramp, graciously enduring the bumping and jostling of the other passengers as they moved in a slow trickle off the vessel. Leaving the quay, she then turned and began weaving her way through the pedestrians traversing the boardwalk, angling in the direction of her new home. As she neared the building a few moments later, she cast a glance upwards and felt her heart give a little jolt.

High above, leaning on crossed arms against the balcony rail nine stories up, was the tiny but distinctive figure of Han Solo. She saw him raise his hand and give her a little wave. Though she couldn't make out his features at this distance, she could envision the half-smile and the familiar spark in his hazel eyes, the one that simultaneously melted her heart and quickened her pulse. She lifted a hand in response and smiled, and then hurried her pace toward the broad double doors that led to the foyer.

 **-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-**

Ten _long_ minutes later, Leia finally stood in front of the apartment door, willing herself to control her breathing, gazing at the ornate placard bearing the Aurebesh inscription "9-B", which was affixed to the wall overtop of the security scanner.

Upon her arrival to the building's foyer, she had been enthusiastically greeted by both the superintendent and the head of security who, thrilled with making her acquaintance, drew her into a spur-of-the-moment briefing to review the safety and security features of the luxurious, modern building, clearly hoping to impress her with its advanced technologies. Not wishing to appear ungrateful, Leia had allowed herself to be drawn into the impromptu meeting, conscious all the while that Han was upstairs, awaiting her arrival. When she'd finally offered her polite thanks and made her way to the pair of glassine turbolifts that serviced the building's seventeen floors, she was almost jittery with excitement.

Underlying her anticipation, however, was a curious feeling of nervousness that seemed to intensify as she lifted her hand to the access panel. She let it hover there for a moment, noting with a sense of wonder how her stomach fluttered and her throat felt tight. Just as she was about to press her palm to the surface of the panel, a faint chime sounded and the door slid opened with a soft hiss, revealing the tall figure of Han Solo on the other side.

They stared at each other for a moment before Han cracked a grin. "Now's the part where you say, 'Honey, I'm home'," Han instructed. "And I open the wine."

Dropping her hand and raising her eyebrows, Leia made a show of peering around his frame to the vestibule beyond. "You have wine?"

Han's rueful expression said he wished he'd thought to procure some. He shrugged. "Not this time, Sweetheart."

"That's okay. I don't need a drink," she informed him, smiling. "I just need a…." Before she could finish her sentence, Han reached for her, drawing her gently over the threshold and into his embrace, then lowered his head to hers and kissed her. His touch was tender, and for a moment all Leia could do was cling to him, lost in the pleasurable caress of his lips and the sensation of his warm body pressed intimately against hers.

Han broke the kiss and drew back slightly, just enough for Leia to see the flecks of gold sparkling in his hazel eyes. "First kiss in our new place," he murmured, cocking one eyebrow. "How was it?"

Stunned with pleasure, awash in the rush of endorphins that seemed inevitably to follow Han's caresses, Leia nevertheless kept a straight face as she gave a nonchalant little shrug. "Not bad," she opined, sliding her bag from her shoulder and bending slightly to set it down on the floor, before straightening to meet his eyes once more. "Let's see what the second one is like…." Sliding her arms around his neck, she pulled him back down and claimed his mouth again, kissing him more deeply. His warm response sent tingling frissons up the length of her spine and set her nerve endings alight.

"Well," Han said in a low rumble when they finally parted. "Welcome home."

Leia broke into a broad smile at those words, feeling a little thrill at how that phrase seemed to connect her to Han in a whole new way. They'd lived in close proximity for years, of course, but always with a line of demarcation when it came to personal space; he'd always had his ship, she'd always had her quarters, and it had taken an exceptionally long time—and fairly extraordinary circumstances—before they'd even begun sharing a bunk. Han's reminder that they now shared a home made Leia's heart leap and flutter in her chest.

Han released her and took a step back, taking both of her hands in his and gazing down at her with a faint smile that shifted gradually into uncertainty, then transformed into a somewhat awkward expression that indicated he wasn't quite sure what to do next. Feeling just as bemused as he appeared, Leia stared back into the depths of his changeable eyes—and then burst out laughing. Releasing his hands, she covered her face with her splayed fingers and shook her head as she gazed at him, unable to put into words what she was feeling in that moment.

Han gaped at her for a moment, and the look of curiosity on his face, mixed now with slight confusion, wracked Leia's body with another little spasm of laughter. A slow grin began to spread across Han's face as the light of understanding dawned in his eyes, and his deep baritone laugh mingled with hers. Drawing her back into his embrace, he wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders and pressed a kiss into her hair.

"It does feel a little weird, doesn't it?" he murmured, giving her a gentle squeeze.

Leia drew a deep breath and expelled it, trying to quell the giddiness that gripped her. "Utterly surreal," she agreed. "But I must admit…," she tilted her face up to his again, "the kisses help."

Han took the broad hint with good grace, obliging her with another sweet kiss on the lips before he pulled back and turned her with him towards the interior of the apartment. As they moved a few steps deeper into the vestibule, the door hissed shut behind them and Leia drew a deep breath.

"Tell you what, Princess," Han proposed, draping an arm over her shoulders, "Let me give you the grand tour. This," he indicated with a wide sweep of his free arm, "is the...uh…."

"Foyer," Leia supplied, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile.

"Yeah, that's the word," he grinned. "Lucky for me, the rest of the rooms have normal names."

The broad entrance foyer was unfurnished, but handsomely decorated with floors of polished wood in a rich, dark tone, and a warm candlelight color on the plain walls. The walls themselves were edged with elegant molding at both the base and the crown, the latter drawing Leia's eye upward to an expensive-looking light fixture mounted semi-flush to the hand-finished, textured ceilings. Though the apartment building was smaller than many of the others on the boardwalk, and relatively unassuming from the exterior, it was evident that the interiors had been constructed with the highest quality materials and with expert craftsmanship.

Finally registering what Han had said, Leia glanced up at him. "So, you've already scoped the place out?"

He gave her a meaningful look. "I've been here twenty minutes," he reminded her, "and patience ain't my strong suit."

"Sorry," Leia murmured, slipping her arm around his waist and peering up at him. "I wanted to come straight up, but I got waylaid by the custodians downstairs."

"Yeah, I figured as much. They waylaid me, too," he told her. "I made a couple of circuits while I was waiting. It's a big place, kinda fancy. Something tells me High Command has ambitions for you."

Even without venturing into the rest of the apartment, Leia could see that what Han said was true; the apartment had been selected by someone who assumed she would require or expect a degree of luxury. She grimaced at that realization, wondering if she should have made her expectations a little clearer. She'd been offered even grander accommodation than this at first—the penthouse suite in the same building, in fact—but had declined it and requested something less palatial instead, feeling a little dismayed and slightly embarrassed by the non egalitarian mindset that had prompted such a proposal. Although she recognized the need for a certain level of security in her living arrangements that was concomitant with a certain level of grandeur, she was also aware—as Han seemed to be, as well—that there was a political element to the choice of accommodation. Fleetingly, she wondered what the political ramifications would be once High Command discovered that she'd chosen to share her accommodation with Han, but she quickly set that concern aside. It wasn't the only significant piece of personal information she was withholding from her peers, and she suspected that those other secrets, once revealed, would put her relationship with Han into sharp perspective for anyone who dared to question it.

The vestibule opened onto a broad central avenue that ran perpendicular across the length of the apartment. Directly ahead, Leia could see a bank of tall windows on the other side of a spacious, sunken living area. It was unfurnished, but with its roomy footprint and ample natural light, the space felt welcoming, and Leia could envision it becoming a favorite location to relax and unwind at the end of a day.

She was suddenly grateful that High Command had allocated funds to furnish the place, and even more grateful that the building's concierge had a selection of color schemes, styles and layouts from which to choose, as well as staff to put their choices in place; otherwise, she suspected, the task of furnishing and decorating the apartment might never be accomplished. The demands on her time seemed to double with each passing day as the work of the Provisional Senate got underway in earnest, and Han would soon be deployed again to parts unknown for an indeterminate length of time. Furthermore, Leia suspected, Han didn't know any more about interior design or decorating than she did; they could use all the help they could get.

"Some view," Han commented, gesturing towards the windows and the balcony beyond. "You can see the whole harbor from up here, and the edge of the Silver Sea. C'mon, I'll show you."

He'd taken a few strides in the direction of the living area when Leia noticed something odd; Han was bereft of footwear, sporting nothing but a pair of socks, thinning slightly at the heels, on his normally boot-clad feet.

"Han," she asked with amusement, "what happened to your boots?"

Swiveling back in her direction, he gestured. "Over there, by the door. I took 'em off."

Arching one eyebrow, Leia stole a glance behind her. His scuffed and well-worn spacer's boots were indeed beside the door, lying in a heap where they'd been discarded. "And you took them off…why?" she queried.

"Well, _look_ ," he said as he gestured again, this time at the carpeted floor of the sunken living room. "Some bright spark thought it'd be a great idea to put _white_ carpets down in there."

"They're not white, they're cream."

Han stared at her for a moment in bewilderment, as if she'd suddenly begun speaking in Shyriiwook, then shook his head slowly. "Okay, _cream_ , then."

"So you took your boots off to keep the carpets clean?"

"Well, yeah. Isn't that what people—?" Han rolled his eyes and glanced away, looking slightly discomfited. "Ah, hell, I'm used to walkin' on deck plates, Princess. Didn't want to mess anything up…."

Leia struggled to hide a smile. For a man who was used to living on a tramp freighter, unaccustomed to such plush surroundings, she found his efforts to keep their new place pristine incredibly endearing.

"What's so funny?" Han's voice held a slightly defensive tone that made Leia shake her head to forestall any misunderstandings.

She pressed her lips together, riding out a little wave of melancholy that swelled beneath her breast, a familiar feeling that nevertheless took her unawares every time it happened. "Nothing. It's just—."

"It's just, what?"

"It's just a little...funny…in an odd way," Leia told him as she bent to slip off her own shoes and then stepped over to set them down next to Han's boots on the floor. Straightening up, she turned back in his direction and gave him a smile that felt a little tremulous. "We seldom wore shoes indoors...well, _at home,_ I mean. On Alderaan."

"Ah," Han tilted his head back in sudden comprehension, then gave her a wan smile and opened his arms.

Leia crossed the short distance between them and slipped into his embrace once more, burying her face against his chest for a moment and feeling grateful for his quiet understanding. For years, she hadn't been able to speak of Alderaan without first steeling herself and hardening her heart, and even then she'd been able to talk about bare facts, and only when it was strictly necessary. Fondly recalling happy times with friends and family she would never see again, and speaking in an idle way about the lost customs of her family's household was not something she'd ventured to do until very recently, and only in the presence of the beings she trusted most—the three who'd become her new family—Han, Luke and Chewbacca. The danger such recollections presented to her composure made it risky conversational territory that Leia usually tried to avoid.

"No shoes in the house unless we were entertaining formally," she murmured against Han's chest, tentatively continuing her reverie. "It was common practice to slip them off at the door so as not to track in dirt from the streets...something we did at the homes of close friends, too, on casual visits." Leia drifted into memories of those long-ago days before she'd become involved in politics, government and rebellion; simpler days, before the Empire took away everyone and everything she held dear. She gave herself a mental shake, shrugging off the gloomy thoughts. "Anyway," Leia stretched up to place a soft kiss on Han's jaw, and then drew away, smiling. "It's probably not even necessary here. The carpets in a place like this are sure to be treated with some type of high-tech saniguard."

Han gave a little grunt of acknowledgement. "Good to know."

"But now that I think of it," Leia mused aloud, "I don't suppose I've had a place since then where I could safely walk around in my bare feet…." Her voice trailed off, as she lapsed into private thought. It was an odd little detail to recall at this juncture, she supposed, but it was true; not even in her cabin aboard _Home One_ , nor in any barracks or officers quarters on any base, and of course not aboard the _Millennium Falcon_. The old freighter's environmental controls did only the minimum to mitigate against the bitter cold of space travel, and there were always loose bits of wire and detritus littering the deckplates, threatening injury to tender feet.

By contrast, the hardwood floors of the foyer felt pleasantly warm and smooth against her skin. Peering down at her own bare toes, Leia glanced at Han's stockinged feet and then angled her gaze upwards and smiled. "You never go barefoot," she observed, realizing as she spoke that the only time she ever saw him without footwear was in the shower or in bed. "It feels wonderful. Try it."

Gamely, Han stripped off each of his own socks, and then tossed them carelessly in the general direction of his boots. He stood in his bare feet on the hardwood, flexing his absurdly long toes and grinning down at Leia.

"I told you it feels great," she confirmed with an air of satisfaction. "And see that switch by the door? The floors are _heated_. You'll never need to wear socks indoors again."

Han shook his head, still grinning. "Careful, Sweetheart. If I get too used to these little luxuries, I'll have to modify the _Falcon_ to match."

"There are worse things you could do to that rust bucket," Leia smiled.

"Hey," Han said in a tone of happy revelation, jerking a thumb back in the direction of the control switch for the underfloor heating. "Does that mean you'll stop sticking your freezing feet on me when you get into bed?"

Leia gave him a sweetly sour smile and then gestured towards the sunken living area. "You were showing me around, remember?"

Leaving the vestibule, they crossed the broad hardwood expanse that bisected the apartment from east to west, and then stepped down into the plushly carpeted living room. Leia paused for a moment to scrunch her feet into the thick, soft pile, luxuriating in the feeling of the fuzzy fibers caressing the spaces between her toes, and then gave Han a pointed look until he copied suit. They grinned at each other and then Han swiveled around and gestured at the far wall, cocking his head to one side. "Whaddaya think, Princess? Hundred and fifty centimeter holovision screen mounted right over there?"

"A hundred and _what?_ " Leia snorted. "Do you need corrective vision surgery or something? I don't think so."

Han feigned a pained expression as he sank down to the carpeted floor, and then tugged gently on Leia's wrist until she sat cross-legged beside him, both of them facing the blank wall in question. "Oh, c'mon, it'll be fun," he cajoled, leaning his shoulder against hers. "I can just imagine it right now. The smashball Galactic Cup is on, we're rooting for the Outer Rim planets, you're bringing me bottles of ale…."

Leia elbowed him and cocked an eyebrow. "We're rooting for the _Mid-Rim_ planets, you mean. And I suppose you also imagine me in the kitchen rustling up the appropriate comestibles to go along with that ale?"

"That depends on what you're wearing while you're rustling," Han leered playfully, then sat back on straightened arms and gave her a quizzical look. "What the hell is a _comestible_ , anyway?"

"It means food," Leia explained, silently marveling over the fact that Han's ribald banter had completely lost its ability to rile her.

"You, _cooking?_ Hell no, Princess. I _like_ being alive," he teased, defending against her punitive jab with ease. "Anyway, I'd never expect you to cater to me; besides, the guys would bring the whole spread anyway. _Voronki_ wings, fried _greezi_ …"

"What _guys?_ Leia questioned, angling her head back in his direction and narrowing her eyes.

"You know, Luke, Wedge, Hobbie...those guys."

Leia turned up her nose. "In other words, Rogue Squadron would happily contribute to your coronary syndrome."

"Sweetheart," Han said, leaning in close so that his breath stirred tendrils of her hair against her cheek, "you're the only thing in this big, wide galaxy that has ever had any effect on my heart."

With a snort of amusement at his blatantly mushy attempt to make her smile, Leia tilted her face to his and they shared another kiss, one that lingered and gradually shifted into a series of sensuous caresses that brought a flush of heat to Leia's skin. "Ah," she sighed dreamily when their lips parted, "that certainly makes this place feel a little more like home."

"Happy to be of service," Han grinned, rising to his feet and extending his hand to help Leia do the same. "A kiss in every room, then," he proposed, giving her a wink, "to help us settle in."

"Deal," Leia agreed, taking his proffered hand and standing up beside him. "And if the Lothal Loth-Cats ever win the Cup, you can have your hundred-centimeter holovision screen."

"Hundred and _fifty_ ," Han corrected, hooking an arm around her shoulder and guiding her toward the balcony doors. "Don't sell the Cats short."

Han palmed the door control and the glass panel slipped open with a soft hiss, admitting a rush of cool sea air and a distant wash of noise from the city far below. Leia stepped out onto the balcony, gasping a little at the sensation of cold duracrete against the bare soles of her feet. Han followed close behind and the two of them crossed the short distance to the edge, then leaned companionably over the broad chromium rail that topped the thick, tempered glassine panels of the balcony enclosure. Nine stories down, the harbor continued about its business as scores of watercraft plied the deep waters, the hum of repulsors blending with the purr and whine of engines and the occasional clang of a bell. The boardwalk was similarly teeming with activity; at this hour, the numerous cafes, pubs and restaurants along the harbor's edge were doing a brisk business as colleagues, friends and families gathered for an evening meal or drinks. White-winged bulabirds soared and wheeled through the air above and below the level of the balcony, their shrill cries playing counterpoint to the faint, happy shrieks of children racing and jumping everywhere along the busy thoroughfare.

"Hard to believe there's a war on, watching all that," Han remarked, bumping Leia's shoulder gently with his own.

Leia nodded her agreement but didn't speak. She'd been thinking exactly the same thing, and though she was well aware that there remained an enormous amount of work left to be done to drive the still-dangerous Imperial remnants out of the Core—and, eventually, beyond the Outer Rim—she was unable to stifle the leaping sense of hope she felt as she watched the perfectly mundane scenes far below.

 _It's going to end,_ she thought with sudden clarity, and felt her stomach flutter as the truth of that notion finally hit her. _This war is_ actually _going to end, and we're going to have a home where we can watch smashball games with our friends, and walk around in our bare feet, and sleep in a real bed._ The relative modesty of her new personal ambitions made her smile.

The lowering sun created lengthening shadows that fell across the water, and dark clouds were bunching up on the horizon. The air was heavy with the scent of impending rain, mingling with the sharp, salty tang of the sea on the breeze. Flickers of lightning illuminated the distant clouds, and the first faint rumblings of thunder echoes across the waves. At this altitude, the breeze was brisk, and Leia shivered a little as she squinted against the light buffeting that whipped strands of her hair free of its loose arrangement. She was wearing a simple but elegant ensemble, comprised of a neatly fitted tunic over loosely tapered trousers, and while the lightweight ivory fabric of her top was suitable for a day at the Senate House, it did little to protect her from the elements.

Attuned to her unspoken needs as he always was, Han slipped an arm across her lower back, encircled her waist, and tucked her in close against his body. She leaned into him with a sigh, tipping her head up to meet his warm gaze, and smiled. The breeze ruffled his hair and the slanting rays of the setting sun kissed his handsome face, illuminating the light bronze of his skin and the green-gold and grey of his eyes as he looked down at her. Leia scanned his features at close range, lifting one hand to let her fingers follow her eyes, tracing the contours of his brow and cheek, down to the edge of his jaw, rough with late-afternoon stubble, before grazing a thumb over his generous lower lip. He bent his head to capture her mouth with his, and Leia turned in his arms, sliding her arms up around his neck, and giving herself up completely to his kiss. The tantalizing movements of Han's mouth against hers combined with the stroke of his hands rubbing gently up and down the length of her back to generate a heat that warmed her from within, but the chill of the ocean breeze nevertheless raised a shiver to her exposed flesh. Bereft of even the modest boost in height provided by her shoes, she'd stretched up on tiptoe to kiss him, but now subsided, drawing her arms down between them to shelter in his embrace.

"You're cold," Han observed, releasing her to run his fingers over the prickled skin of her forearms. "C'mon, Sweetheart. Let's go check out the rest of the place."

Nodding her agreement, Leia turned and led the way through a second sliding glass panel a little further along, this one opening into the room adjacent to the living area and opposite the kitchen. The space was clearly meant to hold a dining table—a rather _large_ dining table, judging by the generous dimensions of the room. Finished with the same neutral colors on the walls and the same dark wood flooring as in the rest of the apartment, the dining room abutted the broad central avenue that bisected the apartment, which opened into the spacious kitchen beyond. There, the polished wood planking gave way to gleaming tile floors rimmed by handsome carved-wood cabinets that surrounded a central island, forming a deep U-shape that felt open and inviting.

"Now, _that_ beats the mess hall any day," Leia commented, brushing past Han and starting for the kitchen.

" _Ah-ah-ah_ ," Han admonished, catching her hand and giving her a gentle tug back. "No fair skippin' rooms."

Leia smirked up at him as she turned, happy to indulge again in their little housewarming game. Han tucked a few stray wisps of hair behind her ear and tilted her face to his, one hand gently cupping her chin, before lowering his head to capture her lips in another deep, lingering kiss that left Leia swaying on her feet.

"That's the dining room checked off," he murmured, peppering her chin and jawline with a few more tiny little kisses before nibbling his way to her ear. "And if you've seen one kitchen you've seen 'em all." He lowered his voice to that subterranean rumble that made the fine hairs on Leia's body try to stand on end. "Let's go find our bedroom…."

Leia hid a smirk. Han knew _exactly_ what he was doing with that deep, gravelly voice and his warm lips just brushing against her ear, but as tempting as she found his suggestion, she wasn't quite ready to give in.

" _Ah-ah-ah,_ " she echoed his earlier admonishment, expending some effort to keep her voice from trembling. "No fair skipping rooms, remember?" Leia carefully extricated herself from his embrace and moved forward into the kitchen area. She raised a curious eyebrow at the sight of Han's holster rig tossed haphazardly on one of the counters. At some point during his explorations of the apartment, she surmised, he must have removed it and set it aside, satisfied that the empty apartment held no threats to their security.

 _Already leaving his things lying around_ , she mused with a smile. Reaching out as she circled around one side of the broad island, she traced a finger admiringly over the polished granite counter top. "It's beautiful."

"Pretty slick, eh? And the appliances have all the latest tech," Han remarked, circling around the island from the opposite direction to meet her halfway. Though he continued to make small talk about the miscellaneous merits of the kitchen, his gaze upon Leia was intent. "I can imagine cooking some pretty nice meals in here."

"You mean you can imagine _Chewie_ cooking some pretty nice meals in here," she rejoined.

"Hey, I can cook!"

"Sure. As long as it's reconstituted root mash."

"Well, Your Highness, that's a damn sight better than _your_ last effort. Some days I still catch a little whiff of burnt Nerf steak, floating through the _Falcon_. I think it seeped into the bulkhead, along with all the smoke."

"Tell you what, Flyboy," Leia retorted, "I'll leave you and Chewie to handle the cooking, if you'll leave ordering takeout to me. _That_ I can do like a pro." Her gaze tracked around the kitchen, slightly awed by the sheer size. On its own, it was larger than most of the quarters she'd occupied in her entire tenure with the Alliance. "Still, it _is_ a little bit much, isn't it?" She gestured at the expensive-looking appliances, the gleaming metal sinks with their stylish fittings set into glossy granite countertops, and the exquisite craftsmanship of the modern cabinetry. All of the elements combined to create a space that seemed almost absurdly luxurious, even to Leia's more refined sensibilities.

Han shrugged.

"Is it _too_ much, this place?" Leia asked, not realizing until she'd said it aloud that the idea was a little worrisome. She wondered with a slight feeling of unease if Han could ever _really_ feel at home in a place like this. She had been so excited to begin this new phase of their lives, she hadn't considered that the change in circumstances and setting might be discomfiting for him. Growing up as a member of a Royal House, Leia was accustomed to luxuries far surpassing these, but after more than ten years with a ramshackle old Corellian freighter as his only abode, Han was assuredly not. She realized, with a glimmer of self-reproach, that she hadn't even thought to _ask_ him before she agreed to take this apartment, without first investigating the type of accommodation High Command had in mind.

"Doesn't bother me," Han said, breaking into her thoughts. He reached for her and drew her near. "I don't care _where_ we live."

 _We_. Han used the term so naturally, in a matter-of-fact tone that removed all doubt from Leia's mind and gave her a warm glow inside. But it wasn't just his words; she could feel the strength of his commitment radiating from him through the Force, and she could see the absolute sincerity and love in the depths of his hazel eyes.

"So you'd live anywhere?" she teased, encircling his waist with her arms and tilting her head back to look at his face. "Somewhere even grander than this, perhaps?"

"Anywhere with you, Princess," he murmured in a serious tone, and then pressed his lips against her temple.

Leia's heart, already full to the breaking point, swelled a little more in her chest, and her throat tightened. "How is it that you always say the right thing at exactly the right time?" she managed.

He shrugged and drew back to look at her. "Maybe 'cause I had so many years of practice saying the _wrong_ thing?" Han cracked a grin. "Anyway, I know that mushy stuff gets you every time."

Leia broke into a grin of her own at Han's attempt to lighten the moment, but she knew that his underlying sentiment was sincere. The waves of energy and emotion flowing to her through the Force had reached an almost palpable intensity, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She reached up to cradle his face in her palms and drew him back down to her, kissing him softly at first, then with greater ardency as he edged closer and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him.

The flame that had been ignited in the foyer and stoked by the kisses in the living room, on the balcony and in the dining area flared anew and Leia slid her hands upwards to thread her fingers through Han's hair as she returned his advances with growing intensity. She melted against him and felt him begin to edge her gently backwards, until the small of her back touched the firm granite lip of the center island behind her.

"These counters are perfect," Han opined, running his hands across the smooth surface to either side of Leia's body.

Breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder, Leia gave a shrug, somewhat bemused by his resumption of small-talk. "If you say so."

"Yeah, they're nice and deep," Han continued, drawing his arms in and encircling Leia's waist. "And just the right height."

As soon as he said it, she realized what he had in mind, just in time to clutch at his shoulders as he boosted her up, laughing, onto the counter. Now at eye level with him, Leia felt the liquid pull of desire tugging at her core the way it always did when Han looked at her this way, with that sultry glint in his hooded eyes. He nudged her knees apart and stepped between them, settling himself between her thighs as he leaned in and tilted his face towards hers once more. She met him halfway, parting her lips to allow the tip of his tongue to slide inside, teasing and then tangling with her own, sending wild shivers racing along her every nerve. Leia gave herself over to the exquisite sensations evoked by the movements of his mouth on hers and the insistent motion of his hands as they skimmed up her sides, his thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts and brushing lightly against her nipples with a tantalizing touch. He eased forward, closing the tiny gap that remained between them. Ghosting his hands down the length of her spine to the small of her back, he rocked his hips against her, leaving Leia with no doubt whatsoever as to his current state of mind or his intention. She hooked her legs around his narrow hips and moaned softly, rolling her own hips in response, as a jolt of pure pleasure coursed through her body. It was rare that they had an opportunity to indulge in the simple pleasure of being so openly physical with one another, at least anywhere apart from the bunkroom on the _Falcon_. Here, though, they were completely alone. The fact didn't appear to be lost on Han either, who seemed keen to take full advantage of the situation. Through the hazy mist of building desire, though, Leia's inner voice of reason whispered to her, and she brought her hands up to his shoulders to nudge him gently back.

"Not on the _counter_ ," she cautioned, panting lightly.

"Why not?" Han grunted, his eyes at half-mast and his lips still intent upon traversing the skin of her throat.

"Well," Leia tilted her chin up, trying to keep her thoughts together as his warm mouth continued its downward travels. It didn't help at all that his hands were now on her thighs, the heat of his palms palpable through the thin fabric of her fitted slacks. She squirmed with pleasure as his thumbs moved inward in slow synchrony, drawing gentle, inexorable patterns up the inside of her thighs. "It's...it's... _unhygienic_ ," she finally managed.

Han's lips and thumbs ceased their movements as he lowered his forehead to her collarbone, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

"What?"

"Never mind, Sweetheart," he murmured, still smiling, and then shifted his angle to nibble on the tender lobe of her ear. "How about the floor, then…."

"Cold tiles? I don't think so."

Han drew back and gave her a sly grin. "The floors are heated, remember?"

"Nice try."

Han put on an exaggerated expression of disappointment as he took a step back, but then he repositioned himself slightly to one side, slipped one arm around Leia's back, tucked the other under her knees and lifted her. Leia gave a startled little yelp and grabbed onto him.

"What—, wait, Han," she admonished, laughing. "Put me down."

"For some reason, there are two bedrooms," he informed her, ignoring her token protests as he swiveled around and then paced, with Leia in his arms, to the edge of the kitchen area. "One at either end," he motioned with his head first in one direction down the open central corridor, then in the other. "Though why they gave you two is beyond me. Hope nobody thinks I'm gonna be sleeping in the guest room."

"I asked for two. And it's not a guest room; it's for Chewie." As she spoke, she released the grip of her hand on his shoulder and reached up to smooth back the hair from his forehead and temple, luxuriating in the simple pleasure of touching him.

Turning his head, Han stared at her blankly. "For Chewie?"

"Of course, for _Chewie_. You don't think we'd expect him to stay on the _Falcon_ when he's planetside, do you?"

Leia saw the light of amazement and gratitude kindle in Han's eyes, and a slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "He's as much at home on the _Falcon_ as I am, but he'll appreciate the gesture and the change of scene," he said with certainty. "In fact, he'll love it. Hope the place comes with a cleaning droid, though. There's gonna be Wookiee hair all over."

Leia smiled. Cradled close to Han's chest with her bare feet dangling and her arms wrapped around his neck, she thought perhaps she should feel ridiculous. Instead, she felt quite the opposite; nestled in the warmth of his arms, she felt abundantly cherished, treasured, and secure.

"So, pick a room," Han prompted, giving her a little jostle. "Which one do you want to be ours?"

"Aren't they exactly the same?" Leia queried absently, tightening one arm around his neck to draw herself up close enough to kiss his stubbled cheek. She carried on kissing him then, nuzzling his jaw and the tender skin behind his ear. He was so _warm_ and he smelled divine, and something about the way he was carrying her, his strong arms holding her aloft with apparent ease, made her thrum with desire.

Han paused, his answer delayed as he seemed to lose himself for a moment in the sensations she was causing with her lips against his neck. Leia saw his eyes flutter briefly, and he cleared his throat. "They're almost identical," he rasped, "Except one has a fresher with a shower big enough for two, and the other has a hot tub."

"Hot tub," Leia voted, the fingers of her free hand already beginning to work at the fasteners of his shirt.

"Good choice," Han confirmed, turning left as he exited the kitchen, and then moving towards the broad corridor on the other side of the entrance vestibule. "Farthest from the kitchen. When Chewie's in there ransacking the chiller in the middle of the night, he ain't gonna hear you making any strange noises."

Leia drew her head back and thumped him lightly on the shoulder. "Hear _me_?" she said, in a tone of mild indignation. " _You're the one_ who makes all the noise."

"Ask Chewie," Han said with a wicked smile, glancing down at her as he walked. "I think he may have a different opinion on that."

"Han!"

"What? Can I help it if he's got better hearing than the rest of us? Besides, it's not like he'd ever say anything." Han's grin widened, showing a flash of even white teeth. "Not to you, anyway. So," he asked, finally reaching the threshold of the expansive bedroom, "where are we going to put the bed?"

Leia looked around. The spacious room was easily quadruple the size of the _Falcon_ 's bunkroom, if not a little bigger, and it was positioned on the same side of the apartment as the living and dining areas, which meant that the vast windows on the wall to their right overlooked Lumelemi harbor. Although the sun was now only just above the horizon, its lingering light filled the room with a warm, golden glow. The wall on their left featured a closed door that led, Leia presumed, to the adjoining fresher.

"There," she said, nodding towards the far side of the roughly rectangular room, opposite the door. "With the head of the bed against the wall."

"Perfect." Han crossed the room to the spot Leia had indicated and lowered himself to one knee, setting her down with care on the plush carpeting.

Leia released her hold around his neck and started to lean back but, before Han could straighten up, she slid her hands down the front of his shirt and gave the fabric a gentle tug. "Lie down with me," she whispered, stretching out on her back.

Looking down, Han held her gaze, a faint smile playing around the corner of his mouth, as he knelt beside her and stripped off his black vest. "I plan to," he informed her, raking her supine form with his hungry eyes. Leia smiled back, watching as his nimble fingers made quick work of the remaining fasteners of his shirt. He tugged the hem free and shed the shirt, too, tossing it aside in the direction of the vest. Admiring the flex of lean muscle as he moved, she waited until he'd finished, then patted the carpet beside her hip.

"I mean lie here, next to me."

Han's smile turned slightly quizzical, but he complied, planting one hand on the floor and swiveling around to sit on his haunches, before stretching out on his back alongside her, tucking one bent arm behind his head. Leia relaxed into a similar position beside him, then reached between them for his free hand and entwined her fingers with his.

She was conscious of having abruptly halted the progression of Han's romantic plans—and her own plans, too—and spoiling their momentum. But as Han had set her down on the floor of what would soon become _their bedroom_ , she'd been hit by a wave of strangeness and, inexplicably, a ripple of fear. She had a distinct, surreal sense of disembodiment, as if everything were going just a little too fast or happening to someone else. Feeling slightly disoriented, and finding herself unable to understand the origin of her sudden, intense reaction, she felt the need to pause for a moment to calm herself, catch her breath, and try to bring order to the churning mix of emotions that swirled within her.

"It's strange," Han murmured after a long moment, breaking into her jumbled thoughts. They lay side by side, hands clasped between them, staring up at the ceiling. Han sighed, crossed his long legs at the ankle and gave her hand a little squeeze. "I feel it, too, Sweetheart. Hard to believe this is actually gonna happen—it _is_ happening." His deep voice was soft with reflection.

In his usual fashion, Han had cut straight to the heart of the matter, almost as if he'd been gifted with the ability to read her unspoken thoughts, and was now answering them. Leia thought back to what Luke had said to her recently about the Force, about how he believed that those who were sensitive to its energies might fall somewhere on a spectrum, rather than into one category or another. Luke had even had the temerity to suggest that _Han_ might have the faintest glimmer of that mysterious ability, a vanishingly minuscule amount that nevertheless manifested in his life, appearing as exceptionally good luck or unusually reliable intuition. At times like this, Leia wondered if Luke might be right.

"It's just that…." Leia released a shuddering breath. "For a long time, I tried to reconcile myself to the fact that I would never have a home again, not really." She paused, wrestling with herself, unwilling to give in to self-pity but feeling a pressing need to share with Han all of the emotions that weighed so suddenly but so heavily on her heart, feelings she'd long ago suppressed so that she could function, but which now bubbled up, unbidden, to the surface. She wasn't ordinarily given to great outpourings of emotion—not even with Han, not even in private—but now she felt compelled to speak, knowing on some intuitive level that she needed to face those feelings head-on if she wanted to move forward and embrace the new life that lay before them. Drawing her strength from Han's reassuring presence beside her, she took another shaky breath. "And now that I know I _will_ have a new home, a real one, with you, all I can think about is—" she cut herself off, biting her lip and wishing she had the courage to put the fear into words.

"All you can think about is losing it again," Han supplied. He lifted their joined hands up to his lips and brushed her knuckles with a kiss. "I _get_ that, Sweetheart, I really do. If there's one good thing about having nothing, it's the fact you've got nothing to lose."

"Yes, exactly." Realizing that Han truly did understand, Leia breathed a little sigh of relief. "Before Alderaan was destroyed, I never imagined the possibility of such...enormous losses. I never _could've_ imagined it. It was beyond my scope, entirely."

Han didn't reply, but his hand tightened around hers, offering silent support. Above them, the last light of the Chandrilan sunset glanced across the textured ceiling and began to fade. Leia relaxed a little, settling her head more comfortably atop her own bent arm as she drew her knees up and pressed her bare feet into the plush carpet.

"That's the day I stopped wishing for anything other than the Empire's destruction," Leia continued. "It was all I wanted, all I could think about, for a long time. I was so focused on that, on retribution and… and...justice for my people and...peace...for the whole galaxy…." She paused, closing her eyes for a moment, thinking how grandiose her words sounded, even to her own ears.

"You stopped wanting anything just for yourself," Han observed in a quiet voice, "and you found out that _not_ wanting anything is a pretty good strategy, 'cause it means you can never be disappointed or hurt." He made a rueful vocalization, halfway between a laugh and a groan. "Yeah, I get that, too."

"But now I _do_ want something for myself," Leia whispered and, although she wasn't confessing secrets Han didn't already know, it felt good to say it aloud, to let him hear it. "I want it so much, Han, more than anything. But I also know," she paused, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat, "Now I can imagine what it would mean to _lose_ —" she cut herself off again, feeling frustrated with her sudden inability to fully articulate her thoughts, especially at this moment, when it seemed so important for her to do so.

Han released a heavy sigh. "Takes a lot of guts to build another life, Leia, after what you've been through," he acknowledged. "But courage is one thing you've never lacked. You're the bravest person I know."

Leia pressed her lips together, blinking against the sudden sting of tears. "Am I?" she asked, at length, unable to raise her voice above a hoarse whisper. "Then why am I so afraid? Why do I have the feeling that, when I least expect it, this life that I've worked so hard to build—that _we've_ worked so hard to build—will disappear?"

"'Cause you know that's the way life is, Princess. I wish it was different, but the truth is—you never know how long anything's gonna last. And nothing's permanent."

Startled and dismayed by his candor, Leia turned her head to look at him. She stared at his profile for a long moment before he finally rolled his head to the side to meet her gaze. In the fading light of the Chandrilan sunset slanting through the windows, his eyes were a warm, dark green. He gave her a gentle smile.

"It's a fact of life, Sweetheart," he elaborated carefully, squeezing her hand and holding her gaze. "I could get vaporized over Galantos next month, or you could wind up on the wrong end of some assassin's blaster on the way home from work one day, and that would be that."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Leia asked, her voice rising querulously.

"Yes? No. I dunno, maybe…," Han said. "I mean… _I_ find it comforting. Sorta."

Leia stared at him, waiting for him to explain.

Han took a deep breath and released it in another sigh. "Look, Princess, I just mean that _how it ends_...well, that's probably out of our control. And yeah, unless we manage to go out together, one of us is bound to go _first_ , right?"

His stark exposition of her greatest fear made Leia quail inside and she turned her face away, feeling the shaky grip she had on her emotions beginning to falter. She closed her eyes against the truth of it, and bit her lip. When she didn't answer him after a moment, Han released her hand, shifted onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow.

"Sweetheart…." The soft entreaty in his tone made her open her eyes and Leia turned her head to find his gaze fixed directly on hers, his eyes warm with love and compassion. He lifted one hand to brush back a few strands of hair from her forehead with his fingertips, then buffed the back of his knuckles softly, affectionately against her cheek.

"You said it yourself," Leia managed, her voice trembling. "It's bound to happen, and it's out of our control, just like—"

"Yeah, _the end_ is out of our control," he interjected gently, dropping his hand down to rest on her belly, the warm, intimate weight of it there a source of sweet comfort. "But _before_ it ends—whatever happens between now and then—we're in charge of that, right? You and me. And it's true; some day, one of us is gonna die." Han dipped his head down slightly to recapture her faltering gaze. "But _in the meantime_ , there's gonna be a lot more days when we _don't._ "

Leia went completely still, as Han's voice seemed to reverberate around the otherwise silent room. The truth of his words resonated within her, humming like the low, deep ring of a gong. After a long moment, she exhaled, realizing only as she did so that she'd been holding her breath. She was struck by the acuity of his words and how swiftly they seemed to have shifted her focus, turning her thoughts away from the inevitable, unknowable end, and back to the present. She gazed up at him, and then reached to touch the curve of his cheek, stroking the coarse stubble along the contours of his jaw. _When did you get so wise, Flyboy,_ she wondered, allowing a faint smile to touch her lips.

"I haven't had a lot of good things come my way in life, but we've got something good here, Leia, something _so good_ ," Han said emphatically, his gaze intent upon hers. "Hell, I couldn't even _imagine_ this before I met you, never mind want it for myself. But _this_ …," he slipped his arm around her waist and tugged her close, edging his body tighter against hers as she tilted towards him, allowing him to envelop her in his warmth. "This is…this is…." Words finally failed him and he just shook his head, mutely conveying his feelings with an eloquent gaze.

Leia felt overwhelmed. She could hardly compose a coherent thought, never mind find the words to respond to Han's unprecedented deluge of emotion. He was normally even less disposed towards misty sentimentality than she was, and they almost never discussed their feelings outright. In the early years of their long courtship, Leia mused, they'd gone out of their way to _avoid_ discussing their feelings, being far more inclined to express themselves in other ways. But everything had changed after the events on Bespin. And then, following his rescue from Jabba the Hutt, Han's commitment to Leia became manifest, overt and unquestionable, and hers to him had been richly rewarded and reinforced. That they should once in a while resort to putting at least some of those strong feelings into words was perhaps to be expected, but it still left Leia feeling a little stunned, her heart full to bursting.

"Who knows what life's got in store for us at the end," Han continued, his deep voice breaking into her reverie and calling her attention back to his earnest face. "But I'm banking on it being a long, long time from now." He raised his eyebrows for emphasis, holding her gaze. "Until then, it's you and me, Sweetheart, and we're gonna have a _great_ time." His face relaxed into its most charming grin. "Who knows, maybe we'll even manage to get so old together we can't even chew our burnt Nerf steaks, and we'll have to live out our days on reconstituted root mash."

Moved beyond words by the outpouring of Han's heart and touched by his attempt at levity, Leia gave him a shaky smile. She lay on her side, one arm tucked under her head in a position mirroring Han's own, so close to him that she could feel the rise and fall of every breath he took, with their free limbs entwined.

He was right, she affirmed in a moment of absolute clarity. She felt a great sense of relief for having unburdened herself, simply by acknowledging her fears aloud and for having shared them with Han. But even more importantly, his gentle words had guided her towards the understanding that loss was inevitable.

 _No_ , she amended to herself, not the _understanding_ of that fact—the _acceptance_ of it. She already understood it well enough. She also understood that any attempts to avoid loss or to mitigate it would be futile; if she dared to love Han—and she _did_ love him, fiercely, with all her heart—and wanted to make a life with him, then she might someday face devastation all over again, and there was no way around it. To try and evade that possibility would be to deprive them both of something truly special, meaningful and lasting: a life together that would make their eventual end, whenever it came, worth the pain of parting. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision so that she could focus on Han's face.

The fading of the light had changed his eyes from warm green to cool grey, and he held her gaze unwaveringly, tracking her movements as she lifted herself up on one elbow once more and offered him another tremulous smile. He shifted and followed suit, returning her smile with one of his own, while Leia struggled to find the right words to say. It was ironic that Han, often laconic to the point of being terse, had been able and willing to spell his feelings out so plainly, while she—the consummate, articulate politician—could scarcely speak. But, in this moment, words were too weak, too limiting and imprecise to possibly convey the depth of love and gratitude that filled her heart. Although nothing material had changed since she'd broached the subject a few moments earlier, and though the point Han had made was a simple one, Leia felt profoundly moved by it, fundamentally changed, as if a switch had been flipped inside her head, forever altering her perception.

 _Yes_ , one day, she would lose him—or he would lose her—but in the meantime….

 _In the meantime_ ….

She leaned toward him, and he met her offered kiss, his warm lips clinging to hers in a series of soft, slow, lingering caresses that made Leia's pulse throb. The gentle pressure of his mouth against hers and the cradle of his hand around the back of her head held her in sweet suspension for a long moment, his touch connecting them like the completion of a circuit that brought all of Leia's senses flickering back online.

Flooded with sensation, she was astonished all over again by the taste of him, the texture of his lips, the scent of his skin; and then by the sound and feel of him moving, pulling, pressing, _wanting_ her, asking for more. Through the Force she could feel him yearning for her, his desire as potent as her own. His hand, now on her waist, slipped over to the small of her back, and then he pulled her tight against him, so tight she could feel the powerful beating of his heart, hard and fast, and her own rhythm surging almost in time. She lifted a hand to caress his face as one kiss blended into the next, marveling anew at how their lips fit so neatly together, lock and key; the way the muscles of Han's cheek and jaw moved under her fingertips as he deepened the contact between them, gently coaxing her lips apart with the teasing tip of his tongue. She opened to him, welcoming the warmth of his tongue now sliding against hers in increasingly intimate communication, telling her everything, and asking again. She moaned—the only answer she could give in that moment—and felt Han smile against her lips.

Breathlessly they shifted and strained to get even closer, arms and legs tangling as they began tugging and pulling at each other's clothes, craving more, not stopping until both were bare and they were entwined once again. The touch of his fingers in her hair, finding and removing every pin and tossing them carelessly aside, reduced her artful arrangement to glorious ruin, tumbling all around her shoulders and down her back.

And then they slowed their feverish tempo, clinging together as they kissed and caressed, their whispered endearments and breathless moans filling the room with erotic susurration. Leia ran her hands all over Han's body, covering him with a million kisses as she strived to convey through touch all of the words she couldn't speak. In reply, Han devoured her, his hungry lips and tongue everywhere on her skin, his powerful hands stroking every centimeter of her body, fueling her desire and making her feel so treasured, so wanted, so loved. In the deepening twilight their eyes caught and held, communicating silently their understanding of the significance of the moment: their first nightfall together, wrapped in each other's arms in a home they now shared, made all the more joyful by the refreshed perspective imparted through Han's wise words.

He rolled onto his back, taking Leia with him, the two of them moving together in synchronous harmony. From this position, Han took a loving inventory of her form, sliding his hands over the contours of her body from head to toe. She straightened above him, and his warm palms skimmed up to cup the weight of her breasts, stroked across the curves of her shoulders, and trailed down over her elbows. His fingers traced the fine bones of her hands and encircled her wrists; trailed in lazy patterns around her knees and then up the length of her thighs, reverently cataloging every subtle feature of her exposed skin. Leia reveled in his touch and the impossibly delicious frissons of sensation that coursed through her, elicited by each new caress of exploration.

She balanced astride him as he touched her, her knees and toes digging into the soft carpet pile as she shifted forward, running her hands appreciatively over the taut planes of his abdomen and chest, as fascinated as she always was by the feel of firm muscle under smooth flesh. Her long hair swayed as she moved, then dropped like a curtain all around his face when she leaned down to kiss him, capturing his lips with gentle fervor. With her body curved around his, she planted open-mouthed kisses along the line of his jaw and down the angle of his neck, then nestled her face into the hollow just above his collarbone, nuzzling his warm skin and pressing little kisses there, too. Beneath her, Han's powerful body surged with desire, his restless hands kneading, soothing, warming her everywhere, before sliding down to cup her bottom. Gripping his shoulders to steady herself, Leia pressed the aching center of her core, already slick with need, against his hard length, using her body to make him arch beneath her, delighted to render him slack-jawed and gasping. In the darkening room, the only sounds were their harsh breaths and the low groans of pleasure that escaped Han's lips as Leia stroked and kissed and squirmed against him.

Straightening up, she gathered her hair away from her flushed face, twisting it and winding it around itself to make a loose, heavy knot at the nape of her neck. Han watched her with hooded eyes, his hot hands still roaming, thumbs and fingers raising shivers of prickled flesh as they traveled over her skin. Leia felt the vague heat of friction blossom in the tender flesh of her knees as she rocked against him, but it was little more than a fleeting thought, more than overshadowed by the intense sensations of his calloused fingers trailing over the sensitive, quivering skin of her breasts and belly. His roughened thumbs stroked the crease of her thighs, and her world narrowed down to pure sensation, to the feel of his hard muscles tensing, the rumble of his voice, incoherent but imploring, and the heat of his desire rising hard and insistent beneath her.

Leia rose above him, just enough to tantalize, just enough to make his eyes fly open and the grip of his hands tighten on her hips, before she reached between them and brought him, rock hard and throbbing, to her core. Han hissed a breath through his teeth and arched his hips, groaning his desperate need for completion, but Leia hovered above him for a moment longer, just out of reach, teasing his arousal and exulting in her ability to drive him—and herself—half-mad with desire. When she finally sank slowly down, taking him into her body with a breathless gasp, Han groaned deep in his throat, focusing on her with dark eyes that glinted with hungry desire. Then he smiled, his white teeth flashing in the fading light, his eyes crinkling up in an expression of such pure and simple happiness that it made Leia's heart ache to see it. She smiled back, her heart overflowing with the same pure feeling. Reaching for his hands, she guided his touch back to her breasts as she began a steady, languid rhythm, speaking to him with her body in an ancient language she was only just beginning to comprehend, one of commitment and absolute trust, where every touch was a softly whispered affirmation, every gentle stroke of skin against skin bearing witness to the depth of the bond they shared. And then, for a long time, there was only sensation—blissful and sweet—without thought, without weight, without words, and with nothing but the echo of their own ragged breathing and the primal sounds of their bodies communicating in the language of love.

At length, and with a feral growl, Han gathered her into his strong embrace and shifted, rolling in one swift motion and taking her with him. Her hair, falling from its makeshift knot, cascaded wildly over her shoulders as they moved, and then splayed out across the carpet above her head as she came to rest on her back. She gasped as Han settled his weight between her thighs and began moving within her once more, driving his hips forward with thick, generous strokes that made Leia's eyes roll back in sheer pleasure. The change in position brought with it a delicious, heady new sensation of fullness and friction that made her moan and writhe, and she wrapped her legs tightly around him, urging him to quicken the pace, longing to take him deeper. He was so attuned to her, so in touch with her unspoken desires, and he knew how much she craved this, craved his weight upon her, filling her senses with his scent and his heat. He enveloped her not just with the warmth of his physical body, but with the even warmer aura of his presence; his unseen essence, suffused with all of his love and devotion, flowed through her in dizzying waves through the Force, mingling with the blissful sensations he elicited from her body.

Groaning her name over and over, Han's rhythm changed and the language between them became something different, something demanding, almost needy. Leia felt her body balancing on the verge of that glorious precipice, the rhythm of Han's powerful movements pushing her closer to the edge with every fluid thrust. The only word she could speak was his name, and she breathed it, moaned it, her voice pitching up to a keening edge, saying his name like a plea for the sweet release that only he could give.

And then he found it: that exquisitely delicate combination of angle and pressure and pace that fractured her senses and shot her over the brink—into blind oblivion and roiling, rhythmic waves of pure pleasure. Moaning, still breathing Han's name in fervent supplication, Leia arched her spine, clutched at his shoulders and took him with her.

 **-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-**

A flicker of lightning briefly illuminated the dark room and brought Leia, blinking, back from a foggy state of satiated bliss into hazy awareness. The celestial display outside the windows was followed a moment later by a roll of thunder, somewhat muted by the apartment's sound-dampening panes and the noise-attenuating materials built into its sturdy walls. Through the glass, Leia could see a slice of the grey Chandrilan sky, but it seemed the sun had set while their attentions were focused elsewhere, and what remained of the evening's silvery light was little more than a dull illumination that fell upon the darkened sill, too feeble to penetrate any further. The rain that had threatened earlier had begun in earnest, pattering steadily against the window and trickling in thin rivulets down the pane.

Leia tried to stir, feeling pleasantly woozy, but found she couldn't move much more than her head and one arm, sprawled as she was on the floor with half of Han's limp, heavy form draped over her like a living, breathing blanket, his tousled head resting next to hers. The weight of his limbs across her body was a sweet comfort, making her feel warm and protected, and she took a moment to savor the feeling, trying to commit every subtle detail to memory. The reality of their responsibilities—and the inevitable absences that came with them—often kept them apart for longer than either of them cared for, and it was fond memories of moments like this from which she drew the strength to endure those separations.

Leia threaded her fingertips through Han's thick hair as another flicker of lightning briefly illuminated his face. His eyes were closed and his features slack, but the flicker of his short lashes against his cheeks told her he was still awake, although clearly in a state of deep relaxation and enjoying her tender caresses. Smiling, she trailed her fingers down his neck and along his collarbone. His skin was still slightly damp from their exertions and, though it was fading, she could still feel heat pulsing just below the surface. She continued her tactile travels, walking her fingers over the well-defined muscles of his shoulder, then curving around the compact bulge of his biceps before sliding her hand down the angle of his arm, enjoying the tickle of crisp hairs against her palm. His broad hand, draped possessively over her hip, twitched to life when she touched it, and curled around hers in a warm grip.

Leia adored studying Han when he was in this state—slightly dazed from the intensity of their passion, deliriously happy and relaxed. A little _too_ relaxed, in fact. With much of his weight resting on her ribs, Leia became acutely aware of her inability to draw a full breath. She nudged him gently, and then again—a little more insistently—when he didn't respond. He finally roused, lifting his head to meet her gaze with slightly bleary eyes and a drowsy smile, mumbling apologies as he lifted his large frame off her. Rolling onto his back, he gathered her into the crook of one arm and folded his other behind his head. Nestling against his long body, Leia planted a kiss on the smooth plane of his chest, sighing at the familiar, salty taste of his skin, and then rested her head, the fingers of her free hand splayed across his abdomen, feeling content for the moment just to listen to the lulling rhythm of his heart.

At the sound of another, more ominous rumble of thunder, Leia slanted her gaze back up at the window. Outside, the rainfall had intensified and was now falling in heavy sheets that sluiced down the pane, obscuring the view of the dull grey sky. Intermittent flashes of lightning lit the dim room with ever-increasing frequency, with rolls of crashing thunder following closely behind.

As if in response to the elements, Leia's stomach rumbled audibly. Han chuckled, covering her hand with his own where it lay across his belly, linking his fingers with hers and giving them a gentle squeeze. " _Something_ tells me you haven't eaten," he sallied.

"I'm starving," Leia admitted. "I had such a busy day, I barely had time to think about food."

Han grunted. "Yeah, I'm hungry, too. Turns out all this _settling down_ gives me a big appetite." He yawned around a smile and then released a contented sigh. "We can pick something up on the way back to the _Falcon_. Though we might wanna wait out that storm. It's a long walk back to the speeder."

"That's okay. I'd rather order in, anyway," Leia said, tipping her face up to his. "I'd like to stay here, just a little while longer, if you don't mind?" Her body was cooling rapidly; she shivered, and snuggled back into the shelter of his embrace to stave off the chill.

Han tightened his arm around her and angled his head to press a soft kiss into her hair. "Fine with me, Sweetheart. Whatever you want," he murmured. "But I'll leave the ordering to you. You're the pro, right?"

"Right."

For an age, they lay wrapped in the warmth of each other's arms, listening to the muffled howl of the wind and the pelting of the rain against the glass.

"So…," Leia ventured at length, her voice sounding a little tremulous to her own ears. "You really think we can do this?"

"Do what?"

"This…" Leia gestured vaguely, indicating the apartment and everything to do with it. "You know. Be... _domestic_?"

"Uh, looks like we're doing it right now?"

Leia disengaged herself slightly from his grip, shifted up onto one elbow and drew back to study his face. "I'm serious. What about all the other stuff? Cooking, cleaning, shopping…." She gestured again, feebly, feeling out of her depth. "I don't have the faintest idea how to run a household."

"Sweetheart, you know how to run a _rebellion,_ and you're about to be running the galaxy; I'm sure you canrun a household. Or _we_ can. You're not alone, remember?" He gave her a lopsided smile, absently stroking the bare curve of her hip with his free hand. "Anyway, what's to 'run'? Cooking, cleaning, shopping; that's what droids are for. Get Threepio in here and put him to work. He'll keep the place clean enough, and he can order food and stuff, keep the place stocked." He shrugged one shoulder against the floor. "Just do me a favor and deactivate his speech module so I can live with him."

"Threepio would be useful here, that's true," she acknowledged, ignoring the gibe about her loquacious protocol droid. She straightened up into a sitting position, cross-legged and facing Han, who remained supine with his legs crossed at the ankle and one arm tucked behind his head. "But _we_ still have a bit of work to do. The concierge is waiting for us to choose the furnishings and the layout for the rest of the place so he can place the orders and arrange it all. And I asked him to leave the bedrooms out of his plan, so we need to attend to that..." She trailed off, feeling unaccountably embarrassed.

Han, alert to her tone, cocked one eyebrow. "You asked him not to furnish the bedrooms? Why?"

Leia bit her lip. "I thought we could do that ourselves. Just...to make it ours." She gave a little shrug. "That's why the walls aren't painted in here."

Han craned his head around, peering at the walls in the dim light. "Aren't they?"

Leia smiled. "Didn't you notice?"

He turned his head back and allowed his gaze to roam down Leia's nude figure before lifting his eyes again to give her a meaningful look. "I had other things on my mind."

Leia smirked, privately marveling at how perfectly comfortable she felt sitting in front of Han with nothing on apart from her long hair to cover her nakedness. Absently, she twirled a strand of it around one finger. "Anyway, if we want a place to sleep any time soon, we'll need to buy a bed."

"There's more room on the floor for what I've got in mind," Han commented, stretching all four limbs out like a starfish, bumping up against Leia's knees as he did so. Thunder boomed and a sustained flicker of lightning flooded the room, briefly illuminating his toned, bare body; he was even more unselfconscious in his nudity than Leia was. "Who needs a bed, anyway?"

Leia gave an exasperated huff. " _I_ need a bed." She drew one bent leg up between them and pointed at her reddened knee, which had begun to throb with an intense burning sensation after he bumped it.

He tilted his head up and squinted at it. "What am I lookin' at, Princess?"

"Carpet burn," she informed him, feeling mildly outraged at having suffered an injury under such circumstances.

Han snorted and let out a hearty laugh, probably at least in part because of the tone of righteous indignation in her voice. She gave him her most withering look and he sobered, then hitched up on his elbows, craned his neck forward and placed a light smooch on her abraded kneecap.

"First thing tomorrow, Sweetheart, I'll head over to the Tangham district and find us a bed. There's a lot of furniture showrooms down there by the river, or there used to be. Handcrafted, carved wood. _Sturdy_." He winked at her. "Nice stuff. I'm sure they can point me in the right direction for a good mattress, too."

Leia stared at him, mildly surprised at his knowledge of such things. Before she could ask for details, though, he shrugged, anticipating her question. "Years ago, back when we were still, uh, _legit_ , me and Chewie had a short stint running rough exotics for an export company in the Expansion Region. Boa-wood, _homogoni_ , Analayli thornwood, stuff like that. Not much profit in it, but it was steady work."

Leia filed that little detail away in the catalog of information she'd collected over the years about the nature of Han's life before they'd met. He wasn't secretive about it—at least, not anymore—but neither was he given to telling many stories about his past. She smiled in appreciation of his offer to go shopping for a bed. "That sounds perfect," she agreed. "But you don't need to do that on your own. I want to go with you, so we can choose together."

It was Han's turn to be surprised. "I thought you'd be tied up at the Senate House all day. Worlds to save, laws to be made, a galaxy to run...?"

"There's a mountain of work to be done," Leia acknowledged. "But mainstream culture in this part of Chandrila mandates a four-day work cycle, with one day off in between weeks. Tomorrow is the 'weekend', so the Senate's not in session."

Han's expression was wryly dubious. "And you're actually gonna let that stop you working?"

"Yes," Leia stated categorically, lifting her chin a little defiantly. "I am."

"It's a date, then," Han said decisively, clearly happy to accept her assertion without argument. "Some nice furniture, a few knick-knacks, a little paint—whenever you're ready to subject me to _that_ ordeal," he said, and then automatically defended himself against the jab of Leia's fingers to his ribs. He gave her a wide grin. "Don't worry, Sweetheart; pretty soon, this place is gonna feel just like home."

Leia smiled in return, and then leaned over to place a sweet, lingering kiss on his lips. "You know," she whispered, nuzzling his face with hers, trading more kisses around their shared smiles, "it already feels a lot like home to me."

 **-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-**

 **End notes:** Han Solo's "absurdly long toes" are courtesy of the amazing Cicatrick and her doubly amazing story _New Hope, Indiana._ If you love Han and Leia and you haven't read that yet, what are you doing here!? Go! Go now!


	4. Chapter 4 - Me and You

**Authors' Note: "Ummm... apparently we're writing 7 chapters (so far) solely about their first night together in their new place. Sorrynotsorry."**

 **Me and You**

 **By Erin Darroch and Justine Graham**

Han kept one doting eye on Leia as he buckled his holster rig around his hips and then bent to fasten the tie-down around his right thigh. The princess was once again fully dressed in the elegant ivory tunic suit she'd worn to work, and her long brown hair—so recently splayed in wild disarray across the carpet of their bedroom floor—had been smoothed back and arranged into a stylish chignon at the nape of her neck. She was leaning with her forearms folded on one of the polished granite counters of their new kitchen, her eyes fixed on the datapad lying atop the gleaming surface, seeming utterly absorbed in whatever information was displayed on the small screen. Han regarded her with deep affection, fascinated as always by how swiftly she could regain her perfect composure, giving no outward sign whatsoever of their recent amorous activities. In his mind's eye, however, he kept replaying the vision of her arching, naked and wild beneath him, her dark eyes riveted on him with love, lust and joy in equal measure, and her pretty skin flushed pink with exertion and pleasure. He cleared his throat and gave his head a little shake to dispel the erotic image, feeling acutely conscious of the fact they'd only just gotten their clothes back _on_ and it was probably too soon for him to be thinking about taking them off again.

"Well?" Han prompted when Leia didn't appear to be forthcoming with any information gleaned from her perusal of the datapad. He retrieved his blaster from the countertop where he'd left it and slipped it neatly into its holster as he approached her side. "What's the forecast? Any sign of it letting up?" Outside the windows of the spacious dining area opposite the kitchen, the Chandrilan weather seemed determined to answer Han's question in the most dramatic fashion possible. Although it was only dusk, the deep indigo sky looked ominously dark, and there was a slightly greenish cast to the air—or at least, Han _thought_ so; it was difficult to see through glass distorted by sheets of windblown rain. The sound alone was enough to tell the story, though; the whine of the wind and the clatter of falling water on the balcony could be heard even through the building's thick walls and window panes.

Leia sighed and shook her head at the datapad. "Not only is it _not_ going to let up anytime soon, there seems to be a line of even stronger storms moving in. I thought this part of Chandrila was supposed to be renowned for its moderate climate," she remarked, frowning. "This storm is almost hurricane strength. You'd think there would have been some warning of it in the Senate House today."

"Don't think anybody expected it to be this bad. And besides, would you have _noticed_ if there was a warning? Something tells me you had more important topics than the weather on your mind, Sweetheart."

"I suppose." Leia glanced up with a rueful smile. "The best we can hope for is this," she tapped one slim finger on the edge of the datapad, calling his attention down to the screen. "Looks like a tiny window of opportunity between the current band of weather and the next front, crossing our location in the next twenty minutes or so... We could make a run for it then and maybe make it to the speeder without getting drenched?"

Han peered over her shoulder at the satellite image on display, then gave a resigned sigh of his own. "Yeah, I guess we could," he agreed. "Or…," he allowed his voice to trail off on a suggestive note.

Leia glanced up at him. "Or what?"

He slanted a knowing look down at her upturned face. "Or we could stay _here_ for the night."

Han didn't need to see the dimpling of Leia's cheek or the spark that kindled in her eyes to know that she found the idea appealing. She'd been delaying their departure for the past half-hour, seeming to want to linger in the new space. Drifting unhurriedly from room to room on a second, more leisurely tour of the property, she'd found hidden amenities to admire, new angles from which to appreciate the view, and clever little domestic features to explore. Having set aside her earlier trepidation over embracing a future that was out of their hands, she seemed truly to enjoy being here now, and Han smiled to see her so excited about their new joint personal endeavor. His own deep pleasure at seeing Leia happy was a sensation that he acknowledged inwardly with some bemusement. At some mysterious point along the way—long ago, and without Han realizing it—Leia's security and happiness had become more important to him than his own. To his complete surprise, he found he actually had _feelings_ about their new shared abode. Despite his ingrained habit of trying to play it cool and his cynical brain telling him it was "just a place to live", he found her enthusiasm for this venture contagious, and the prospect of a night with Leia all to himself in their new home deeply alluring. It was with some dismay, therefore, that he saw the spark of excitement that had flared in her eyes quickly fade.

"As nice as that sounds," she demurred ruefully, shifting around to face him, "we should probably be sensible and just head back to the _Falcon_." She made a weak gesture at the empty apartment. "We don't even have so much as a pillow here, or a change of clothes." She bit her lower lip, and her pensive expression told Han that she was debating with her inner voice, the one that for years had urged her to be practical, responsible—and, as she put it, _sensible_.

But there was another aspect to Leia. Hidden beneath her composed exterior was a bold, adventurous and playful spirit that no amount of training in etiquette, protocol and _proper behavior_ could ever extinguish, and it was that element of her nature that Han most enjoyed eliciting.

"So we don't have clothes," Han shrugged. "Who needs 'em?" He gave her a suggestive eyebrow, and then broke into his most charming smile. "And you can rest your pretty head right here." He patted the pectoral muscle just over his heart, and was rewarded with a roll of Leia's eyes, though he could see her trying to suppress a smile of her own.

"And where will you rest _your_ pretty head, Hotshot?" she returned with mild disparagement. "As much as I _would_ like to spend the night here," she admitted, seeming uncharacteristically shy as she said it, as if confessing to something embarrassing, "it wouldn't be comfortable, would it? We should probably just go…."

Han shook his head in negation. "You said it yourself, Princess: you're not planning on doing anywork while the Senate's not in session for the weekend, right? So, we got no commitments, and nobody's expecting us to be anywhere or do anything. We're free; we can do whatever we want."

"But…."

"C'mon," Han rested both hands on Leia's shoulders, and dipped his head down a little to whisper conspiringly in her ear. " _You_ wanna stay here tonight, Princess, and so do I."

Leia reared back to give him a searching look. "You do?"

"Sure I do. It'll be fun. No Wookiees, no Jedi, _no droids._ Just me and you here, all alone, all night, watching the storm roll by." He paused, and then said meaningfully, "And _no_ interruptions."

Leia's attempt to hide her smile was no more successful the second time she tried it, and Han's own grin broadened as he watched her wrestle inwardly with what she _wanted_ to do and what she thought she _ought_ to do.

"Tell you what, Princess," he offered, going with his gut to try and tip her over the edge. He gestured through the distant, rain-streaked windows and the harbor beyond. "There's a good-size retail market across the harbor, lots of little shops clustered together that should be open for at least another hour, and probably one or two shops that never close. When the rain lets up a little, I can make a dash for it, grab some stuff to see us through the night, and maybe get back before the next front hits."

"How would you cross the harbor?"

"Footbridge." Han jerked a thumb in a slightly more inland direction. "About a hundred meters that way, at the narrowest point of the channel." Seeing Leia hesitate again, he added, "I can make it."

"I'll go with you," she offered. "Help you carry things..."

Han took a step back, trailing his fingers down her arms to capture both of her hands in his, then cast a meaningful glance down at her bare feet. "Did you bring any shoes other than those sexy little heels you had on?"

He grinned at Leia as she rolled her eyes in exasperation at his comment. She could protest that those shoes were _modest_ , strictly _business-level_ footwear, _not sexy at all_ —and she had done exactly that when he'd first commented on them—but Leia wearing dainty little heels of any height was pretty damn sexy in Han's book. And Leia wearing _nothing but_ dainty little heels was a sight he hadn't yet managed to see. Perhaps, he mused, this weekend would present the opportunity. Before he could derail his own argument with that erotic image, he dragged himself back to the point.

"You'd break your neck, trying to run in those shoes in this weather. And anyway, you'd only slow me down." He paused for a moment, allowing Leia the opportunity to shoot him the hot glare he knew he had coming; she didn't disappoint. He smirked in amusement and satisfaction at his own skill in both predicting and provoking that look from her. Before she could respond verbally, though, he deployed another sure tactic by drawing her into the circle of his arms and lowering his voice an octave. "I'll be fine; I'll be back before you know it."

Leia seemed to be considering his proposal, though Han imagined he could almost feel the direction of her thoughts in the responsiveness of her supple body against his. "I wonder...could the concierge help?" she mused. "Perhaps he could find us some bedding...just the basics, a couple of pillows, a blanket or two…then all you need to worry about is food, a few essentials..."

Han nodded his encouragement of her thought process. "He _did_ say, more than once, that if there's anything we need, all we gotta do is ask, right?. Let's take him up on it," he urged. "Give the guy a chance to demonstrate that _efficiency_ he's so proud of."

Leia's gaze flicked up to meet his. Her answer was clear, manifesting in the joyful spark of anticipation that returned to brighten her deep brown eyes, along with a radiant smile that warmed Han all over.

"I'll go get my comm," she said, stretching up on tiptoe to brush a promising kiss across his lips.

As he watched Leia heading for the foyer, padding softly in her bare feet across the hardwood floor, another flash of lightning lit the darkening room, followed closely by a menacing rumble of thunder. As he trailed behind her to retrieve his boots, Han slanted a glance back at the tall balcony windows and smirked.

 _Give it all you got_ , he challenged the threatening sky; it was going to take more than a little rain to dampen his spirits tonight.

 **-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-**


	5. Chapter 5 - Hot and Cold

**Hot and Cold**

 **By Justine Graham and Erin Darroch**

An hour after he'd departed, Han darted back through the apartment building's wide glass doors, feeling grateful to escape the darkness and the unrelenting rain after his mad dash around the markets. He paused for a moment as he gained the sanctuary of the quiet, elegant lobby, and then breathed a sigh of relief as the doors hissed shut behind him.

Outside, the wind was howling now, sending white-capped waves crashing up and onto the boardwalk, and heavy sheets of rain driving sideways, reducing visibility to near-zero, and turning the city streets into cascading rivers. The promised gap between storm fronts had diminished to virtually no gap at all, and Han had been lucky to make it to the other side of the harbor before the second wave of heavy weather rolled in from the Silver Sea. Instead of weakening, the rain had only intensified as he dashed from shop to shop gathering the items he and Leia had quickly listed between them before he ventured out. Then, wringing wet and chilled to the bone, he'd headed back over the footbridge as quickly as the raging wind and driving rain would allow. In his travels around the nearly deserted market, he'd heard reports of widespread power outages dotting various locations throughout city, so he felt a touch of relief when he caught sight of their apartment building across the harbor and saw that the lights were still on, at least for now. While he wouldn't mind curling up with Leia in the dark if the electricity should fail—he'd picked up a couple of glow rods, just in case—he really didn't relish the idea of climbing nine flights of stairs if the power went out before he made it home.

With the environmental controls inside the building programmed to mitigate the heat of the Chandrilan summer, the cool air in the lobby hit him with the force of a thunderclap, as brutal and bitter as the storm that raged outside. He suppressed a shiver, and clamped his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. His thin shirt and vest had done little to protect him from the harsh conditions, and now, soaking wet and plastered to his body, the cold fabric only intensified his discomfort. As he passed by the front desk on his way to the lifts, his gaze flickered to the male Pantoran security attendant stationed there, whose quizzical look and raised eyebrow echoed Han's own thoughts at the moment: _you must be crazy to be out on a night like this._

Han smirked at him and jostled his armload of parcels, shifting them to one side in order to free a hand enough to palm the controls of the turbolift. He took the opportunity to rake his hair back with his fingers and then swiped a wet hand over his dripping face before redistributing the bags in both hands. Maybe he _was_ crazy, he acknowledged, but he didn't regret making the foray into the wild weather, no matter how soaked he'd become in the process. Deep in his heart he knew he'd have ventured out into the center of a Felucian typhoon if Leia wanted him to, if he thought it would bring back that look of radiant joy he'd seen earlier.

Han seldom thought about the past—certainly, he never dwelled on it for very long—but every once in a while he was reminded of just how much Leia had lost. She was such a force of nature herself, so strong and focused, so confident and wise, it was easy to forget that she was not yet twenty-four years old. With her homeworld vanished, bereft of family and of all who'd known and loved her in her youth, and having lived and breathed politics and rebellion from the tender age of fourteen, she was almost as lost as Han when it came to the notions of _settling down_ and _living a normal life_. Between them, Han mused, they really didn't have a clue what that entailed; not really. But this afternoon, for just a few hours, they'd had a glimpse of it, and Han had seen in Leia's face how much it meant to her. And if it meant a lot to Leia, he acknowledged, it meant a lot to him, too.

When he finally stepped inside their apartment a few minutes later, he dropped his parcels on the polished wood floor of the foyer and then took a moment to wipe both hands down his face, giving them a shake to shed the water from them. He stood still for a moment, cocking his head to one side, listening for any sound to indicate Leia's whereabouts in the empty apartment. Hearing nothing—except for the faint sound of water dripping onto the floor from his saturated clothing—he leaned back against the door, braced his lower back as he lifted a foot, and tugged at his boot, only to realize with dismay that he'd even managed to get water _inside_ it. It had soaked straight through to his sock and the normally snug-fitting footwear was proving more difficult to remove than usual. Frowning, he applied a bit of extra traction until the boot came away with a wet, sucking sound. He tossed it to the side, and repeated the motion with the other foot. Leia still hadn't appeared to have taken any notice of his arrival so, deciding she must be too far away to hear the activity at the door, Han moved deeper into the foyer, his wet socks making an audible _squelching_ noise and leaving a trail of glossy wet footprints on the hardwood.

"Honey, I'm home," he called in an exaggerated sing-song.

There was a short pause during which Han wondered if Leia had actually left the apartment while he was out, but then he heard a light peal of laughter floating to his ears from the direction of the kitchen. "I hope you're not going to yell that every time," Leia's voice rang out distantly. "It's starting to feel like we're characters in a holodrama."

Han chuckled to himself, recognizing the truth of that comment; the whole thing still felt surreal, especially when he cast his memory back to what things had been like for them just over a year ago, when they were freezing their asses off on Hoth and matters between them had been far from settled. Though he was a little chilled and shivering now in his wet clothes, it was nothing compared to the bone-numbing cold of the ice planet where they'd been stationed together before everything went to hell. And things had certainly warmed up between himself and the princess since then, Han thought with smug satisfaction. They'd spent half their time on Hoth in heated flirtation, and the other half sniping and snarling at each other because Han wouldn't make a promise to stay, and Leia wouldn't move forward without one. But now…. Han grinned in happy recollection of the afternoon he'd just spent with her, and in keen anticipation of the evening to come. Now, things were _so much better._

"You were gone longer than I thought you'd be," Leia continued, her voice becoming more audible as she moved steadily closer to the foyer. "I was starting to wonder if you'd decided to hole-up somewhere. But, good news, the concierge was as good as his boasting and he already brought up some—"

As she rounded the corner of the wall that separated the kitchen from the foyer, Leia halted mid-step, her eyes widening at the sight of Han standing in the vestibule, with water dripping steadily from his drenched hair and soggy clothes, pooling into an expanding puddle at his feet. "Gods, Han, you're sopping wet!"

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, "that's what happens when you run around in a hurricane without a rainshield on, Princess. I'm gonna have to put all my clothes in the autovalet." He paused, suddenly struck by the realization that he hadn't actually seen one of the ubiquitous appliances on his brief tour of the house. "Wait—do we even have one?"

"Two, actually," Leia replied. "One in each fresher, cleverly disguised within the cabinetry," she said with approval. "Luxury accommodation definitely has its perks."

"Speaking of perks, whatcha say to me and you trying out that big bubbly tub together?" Han proposed, crouching down to rummage around in one of the bags. He glanced up in time to see Leia's smile, bright enough to light up the room, and marveled all over again at how gratifying it was to put that look on her face. "And since it's our first night in our new place," he said, "I thought we'd celebrate with _this_." In dramatic fashion, he produced a deep green bottle from the bag, and then straightened to his full height to hand it over to Leia.

She held the bottle up and squinted to read the tiny print of the gold label affixed to its surface, then looked back at Han with an appreciative lift of one eyebrow. "Nice," she opined. "You're pretty resourceful, even in a hurricane."

"I'm pretty sure it's my _resourcefulness_ that really turns you on," he winked.

Leia laughed. "You may be right about that, although there are a few other things I could add to that list."

"Oh yeah?" Intrigued, Han took a step towards her, always up for a little flirtation with Leia when she was in the mood. "Tell me."

Leia held up a hand, forestalling his movement. She gave him a meaningful look up and down, and then shook her head. "You are _actually_ _dripping_ ," she pointed out. "And you must be freezing. Maybe you'd better head to the fresher to dry off."

Glancing down, Han noted with a twinge of dismay the extent of the puddle at his feet. Casting a glance backwards at the trail of wet footprints leading from the door—already beginning to dry, leaving hazy residue on the gleaming hardwood—he decided he'd better divest himself of his waterlogged clothing rather than track the mess further into the apartment. He unsheathed his blaster and bent to set it down on the floor, and then released the thigh strap and unbuckled his holster, fumbling at the clasp with numb fingers. He finally settled for allowing the rig to drop to the floor at his feet, and then he straightened, unfastened his fly and shoved his damp trousers and underwear down his hips to pool around his ankles, turning them inside out as he wrestled with first one leg, and then the other, struggling to free himself of the damp fabric. He stripped off his socks, each one landing with a wet-sounding _plop_ as he dropped them on the floor, and then straightened again to shrug off his vest and strip his shirt off over his head. Then, completely naked and suppressing a shiver, he began rooting around amongst the parcels, transferring a few items from one bag to another, to free one in which to carry his wet clothes. As he crouched and piled his dripping things into the empty bag, followed by the holster and then his blaster, he became aware that Leia was simply standing there, staring at him.

He rose to his full height, hefting the bag of wet clothes in one hand and rubbing the other hand absently across his bare abdomen. Leia's gaze flickered down the length of him and back up again, and then she smiled a slow, sultry smile.

"Like what you see, Princess?" he teased, the corner of his mouth quirking into a sideways grin.

Leia's dark eyes scanned his body again, this time with great deliberation. She bit her lip and raised one approving eyebrow. Though it had been little more than an hour since they'd collapsed in satiated bliss together, Han felt the familiar stirrings in his body in response to her frankly admiring gaze.

She gave a little nod of punctuation, as if making up her mind. "I like watching you strip," Leia told him, her warm voice pitched low and soft.

The candid comment and the matter-of-fact way in which she'd delivered it caught Han by surprise and made him catch his breath so sharply he almost choked. He found himself trying to cough and laugh at the same time, delighted by her revelation.

He knew Leia to be bold by nature, but so far in their relationship she had seldom been as forthright in the bedroom as she was in every other aspect of her life. Although Leia's sexual self-confidence had notably increased in the interim since their life-changing trip to Bespin, she still retained a degree of modesty about certain aspects of their intimate relationship, so hearing her make a declaration like that raised a warm flush to his skin. Seeing her dark eyes rake his body with such frank appreciation made Han feel as though his blood had caught fire, and sent a tingle of awareness and a swift rush of blood heading south.

He edged a little closer. "Is that so, Sweetheart?" he drawled in his deepest voice, conscious of Leia's eyes making another broad sweep up and down him as he moved. "Tell me what else you like."

Leia placed a hand on his chest, stalling his forward momentum again and giving him a playful smirk. "Tell you what, Hotshot. I'll put this stuff away while you fill the bath," she offered. "I'll join you in a few minutes and…," she paused, biting the inside of her cheek in a tiny _tell_ that Han recognized, though he'd never let on to Leia that he knew what it meant; it was virtually the only sign she ever gave when she was a little nervous.

"You'll join me and…?" he prompted.

Leia's dark lashes fanned down for a moment then swept up as she met his gaze once more, a playful sparkle in her eyes. "I'll let you in on a few more secrets."

"Sweetheart," Han rumbled, already backpedaling away from her to head down the corridor towards their room and the fresher beyond. "You got yourself a deal."

-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-


	6. Chapter 6 - Soap and Water

**Authors' Notes:** We offer no excuses for this fluffy smut, other than to say that writing it has temporarily satisfied our shared need to escape from grim reality for a while; to forget about death and grief and loss and mourning, while immersing ourselves (and Han and Leia) in millions of tiny bubbles. In this little corner of the GFFA, these two are hopelessly in love and they have an evening to themselves. No interruptions. Bliss, indeed!

A word to the wise: this is probably best enjoyed in the presence of a bowl of ice and an electric fan (looking at you, **StatsGrandma** ). That said, parts of this were inspired by the discussions on HanLeiaFanFicWriters (Blogspot) about "imperfect sex", so don't be too surprised if things don't go exactly as planned for our canoodling duo. We promise, we'll make up for it later.

 **Domestic Bliss**

Chapter 6

 **Soap and Water**

 **by Justine Graham and Erin Darroch**

With the faint hum of the ultra-quiet autovalet muffling the distant roar of the storm that still raged outside, Han closed his eyes and sank down into the spacious tub, submerging himself up to the neck in blissfully hot, bubbling water. He allowed his head to drop back against the curved porcelain edge and then released a sigh as the effervescent water fizzed against his skin, sending a rush of warmth and a shiver of pleasure through his chilled body. He couldn't recall the last time he'd had the time or the inclination to take a _bath_ ; such indulgences were extravagant and unlikely for someone in his previous line of work, and he never would have lingered in such a vulnerable state—naked and with his blaster out of reach—for a minute longer than necessary while he still had a price on his head. The denouement of the long war hadn't made things any easier, either, busy as he and Leia had both been with their respective tasks of wiping out Imperial remnants and building up a new government. Having leisure time to spend in the pursuit of pleasure had been rare indeed.

Rarer still was the scent of Arallute that drifted up in the tendrils of steam that rose from the water's foamy surface, perfuming the air with its lush, exotic scent. With the possibility of a luxury bath in mind, he'd snagged the bottle of scented oil the moment he'd seen it in the shop—turning a blind eye to the exorbitant price—and sneaked it into the fresher in the bag containing his wet clothes. He wanted to surprise Leia, knowing that she equated the familiar scent of the native Alderaanian flower with the comforts of home. He hoped that it would enhance the pleasant feeling of sanctuary she seemed to feel in this new space.

"Well, _that's_ a sight I'd like to imagine very few people have seen," Leia's rich alto voice floated in from the doorway. "Something I thought _I'd_ never get to see, outside of my fantasies."

Han opened one eye. Leia stood leaning one shoulder against the frame, with her dark eyes sparkling and the hint of a smile on her lips, dangling the bottle of wine from one hand and holding two flutes in the other.

"Han Solo taking a bubble bath," she continued as she crossed the threshold of the fresher and walked over to the vanity counter to set down the bottle and the glasses between the pair of porcelain sinks there. She paused for a moment to study her reflection in one of the tall mirrors affixed to the wall behind the counter, then shifted her gaze to meet Han's in the glass. "What would Chewie say?"

Han smirked; he knew _exactly_ what Chewie's response would be, were his long-time friend to see him lounging without a care amid clouds of floral-scented steam. Although he knew without a doubt that the secretly sappy Wookiee would approve of Han's caring and romantic gesture, the ribbing he'd take from his hairy friend would be nothing short of epic. He also knew that the number of people who'd actually seen him in a bubble bath was precisely _zero._

Before he could tell Leia that, though, she turned away from the mirror and tilted her nose in the air, sniffing tentatively at first and then inhaling deeply. Her brow furrowed and Han could almost see the thoughts racing through her mind as she sought to place the familiar scent. When the moment came, he saw her expression change from uncertainty to a look of wonderment, and finally to one of peaceful calm. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she took another long, deep breath, exhaled slowly and then opened her eyes and met his gaze. "That...is that _Arallute_?"

Pleased that she'd made the connection so quickly, but doing his best to downplay his gesture, Han kept his expression neutral and gave a little shrug. "Is it? Hadn't noticed."

Leia gave him a knowing smile. Han dropped the pretense and smiled back, then gave her a conspiratorial wink. The grand, oversized whirlpool tub in which he reclined was set into an arched alcove on one side of the room, sunken into a raised and tiled plinth at the top of two curved steps. He was positioned at one end of it, facing the door. Even slouched down, with the water up to his collarbones and his legs stretched out at full length, his feet didn't quite touch the opposite end. He grinned and sat up a little in the fizzing water, then stretched his wet arms out to rest along the curved edge. Leia was still smiling at him, but she'd made no move to undress.

"Get in here, Princess. I need to hear more about this fantasy of yours."

She blinked as if startled out of a reverie and opened her mouth to answer him, but then she caught sight of the neatly folded stack of thick, plush towels piled on the edge of the tub surround.

"Did you see those _towels_ ," she crooned, her big brown eyes going wide.

Han watched in bemusement as she approached the elevated surround and pulled one of the folded textiles from the top of the stack, and then ran her hand reverently over the fluffy surface, her expression rapt.

"So soft! _And_ he brought shampoo and soap," Leia pointed out, gesturing at the small collection of miniature bottles nestled on the edge of the platform next to the stack of towels. "I'd say his boasting was warranted," she proclaimed, referring to the successful efforts of Millom Gurk, the enthusiastic Drallan concierge whom they'd called upon to supply some basic necessities to see them through the night. Leia lifted the plush fabric to her face and pressed it against her cheek with a little _mmmm_ of appreciation before placing it back on the top of the pile. Straightening, she turned and, with a dreamy smile on her face, made her way back to the vanity counter. Han could swear he heard her humming softly as she poured a measure of fizzy wine, the color of pale straw, into each of the two glasses.

Observing her as she moved around the spacious fresher, Han couldn't suppress the wide grin that spread across his face. He found it endlessly fascinating to see Leia being _Leia_ —not the Rebel leader nor the diplomat; not the politician nor the princess—just a woman, like any other, delighting in a few of the simple pleasures that the war had long precluded. He'd seen her in many different settings and moods; from serene and composed at diplomatic functions to red-faced and bellowing at the top of her lungs in battle. He felt privileged now to watch her simply be herself, enjoying such small luxuries as fluffy towels and nice wine, completely relaxed and unconcerned about _appearances_ or being judged.

As she picked up one of the flutes from the counter and crossed the few steps to the tub, Han noted that while her back had been turned to him, she had unfastened the decorative closures at the neckline of her tunic. Bracing one hand on the side of the tub, she bent forward at the waist and handed him the glass. She paused as she did so, leaning over just far enough to draw his gaze to her open neckline, offering a tempting view of the swell of her breasts beneath the sheer ivory fabric. Han made a low sound of appreciation, and as his eyes flicked up to meet hers, he found her looking down at him with an expression of guileful innocence. The corner of her mouth tugged into a sly smile that told him she knew _exactly_ what she was doing, though, and that she was pleased with his response.

Leia in seductive mode never failed to make Han's pulse race a little faster. In the earliest stages of their intimate relationship, he'd found her first tentative attempts to seduce him alluring and incredibly endearing. But as the months wore on, she'd grown steadily in confidence and she was now far more self-assured.

She really _knew_ him; that was the thing. She knew him inside-out now, better than anyone, even Chewie. Over the years, she'd built up a store of knowledge about him as an ally and a friend, and she'd become thoroughly acquainted with all of his skill sets and predilections when it came to matters of work and survival. But she'd also spent the past several months amassing a collection of additional, more intimate details about what turned him on—in fact, how to make him half-crazed with lust—and she was swiftly learning to use that information to expert advantage. That was evidenced especially by the quiet but sincere confession she'd made after watching him take all of his clothes off: _I like watching you strip._ She knew damn well what she was doing when she made a comment like that, Han mused with an inward smirk.

"So," he said, suddenly finding words more difficult to form through a mouth that had gone a little dry. He took a healthy swallow of wine and set the glass on the tiled edge of the surround. "You still planning on joining me?" he queried. "It's plenty big enough in here for two."

"For two?" Leia remarked, scanning the bath from end to end, her eyebrows climbing. "That tub is enormous. We could almost get three people in there."

"Interesting proposition, Princess," Han drawled, giving her a lascivious smile. "Didn't know you were into that kind of thing."

Leia gaped at him for an instant, then pressed her lips together and tried to compose her expression, although Han suspected the deep pink that now tinted her cheeks wasn't just a reaction to the hot steam. She cast her eyes down and her dark lashes fluttered against her cheeks for a second as Han watched her trying to come up with something to say. Although he knew it wouldn't last long, deep down he was delighted to have rendered her speechless. He had zero intentions of ever trying to introduce a third party into their bedroom—in fact, the idea left him completely cold—but he knew the mere suggestion of it would be scandalous to Leia's relatively genteel sensibilities. She might be learning how to drive him out of his mind, he thought, but he could still get a pretty good rise out of her, too.

True to form, Leia recovered both her composure and her mettle quickly. She stepped back to reach for her glass, flashed him a smile, and took a sip. Lowering the flute, she licked her lips, her eyes remaining locked on his, and set the glass back on the counter. Then, crossing her arms in front of her body, she took hold of the bottom edge of her tunic and pulled it up, turning it inside out as she tugged it over her head in one smooth motion. She extended her arm, allowing the garment to dangle from her fingers for a moment, and then dropped it to the floor.

Feeling as though the temperature of the water had risen by a few degrees, Han was suddenly finding it a little more difficult to breathe normally. Sure, she might _like_ watching him take his clothes off, but he would wager the codes to the _Falcon_ on the fact that his profound enjoyment of watching her disrobe outstripped hers by a long shot. He did more than merely appreciate her display; he relished it like a gourmand would relish the rarest of delicacies, and savored it slowly, as if he were delighting in the most delectable morsel of food in the galaxy. The simple fact that this was _Leia_ undressing for him—the thoroughly vexing, sharp-tongued little hothead who'd captured his heart and driven him nuts with frustrated longing _for years_ —made Han's blood thunder in his veins.

Her dark eyes, sparkling with singular intent, never wavered from Han's rapt gaze as she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her trousers and shimmied them down over her hips, the loose, silky fabric sliding easily down her slim legs to puddle at her feet. She stepped free and nudged them aside with her toe, and then stood for a moment, clad in nothing but her pale pink underthings and the demure expression she was clearly trying very hard to maintain. Han raked his eyes over her figure, feeling his breathing change and grow heavier as his body responded to the luscious sight of her.

She reached behind her back to unhook the clasp of her bra and then, keeping one arm wrapped around herself to hold the garment in place, turned her back to Han once more to take another sip of wine. Once she'd set the flute back down, she slipped the straps of her bra from her shoulders and dropped it to the side, leaving Han to gape at her naked back. His gaze wandered down from the delicate nape of her neck, following the line of her spine to her hips and down to her bare legs. She was lithe; fine-boned, feminine and petite, but possessed of a supple and athletic grace in her form that he never tired of admiring. Her skin was creamy pale, but kissed now with the faintest tinge of pink from the warmth of the steam that filled the room. Han's eyes fastened on her only remaining garment, something he'd bought for her on a recent trip to Sacorria: a pair of tiny, high-cut lace panties that hugged her curves like a second skin. The pleasure of seeing her adorned in the beautiful lingerie he'd selected for her was eclipsed only by the pleasure of watching her take it off, and he waited with bated breath to see her remove that last item. Instead, as he stared, Leia reached up to unfasten the pins that held her hair. Releasing the loose knot at the nape of her neck, she shook out her long tresses and let them tumble across her shoulders and down her back, until they fell at last in a heavy, silken curtain that hung in thick waves almost to her hips. Han gave a little groan.

"Leia, you're killin' me," he rasped. "Are you gonna get in here, or do I have to come out there and get you?" He knew he'd lost their tacit little game by voicing that entreaty but he didn't care. He wanted to gather those long, dark locks in his hands and bury his face in them; he needed to feel her skin under his fingertips, to taste her on his tongue.

Leia tossed Han a backward glance over her shoulder and gave him a little smirk, though she must have agreed she'd tortured him enough. Turning, she approached the tub, and set her glass on the tiled edge next to Han's before ascending the first step, where she paused and regarded him with a curious mixture of anticipation and expectation. Han's eyes roamed her body, drinking in the sight of her beguiling him with nothing more than her bare skin, the glorious hair that spilled over her shoulder to veil one bare, lovely breast, and the weighty gaze of her dark brown eyes. At this distance, the soft, ambient glow from the recessed lighting overhead revealed every freckle and birthmark, and her many scars—all forming a distinctive map on her luminous skin; one that Han could see and feel, and one that he knew by now as well as he knew his own.

She didn't need to speak a word. Han sat up and shifted over until he was eye level with her hips, sloshing a cascade of bubbles over the raised edge of the tub as he moved. Dripping water and with scented foam clinging to his chest and arms, he slipped wet hands around her waist and flexed her body marginally closer to his mouth, brushing a kiss across the skin of her belly. He felt her tremble under his feather-light touch, and allowed his lips to travel lower still, down over the narrow scrap of lace that barely covered the apex of her thighs, breathing her in as his fingers trailed along the scalloped edge where the silken fabric met pale, soft flesh. Leia dropped her head back and threaded her fingers through his hair, a low sound escaping her lips. Hooking his fingers under the thin material, Han drew the garment down over the curve of her hips to her upper thighs, pausing to press a kiss to the soft curls underneath, and then all the way down to pool around her slim ankles. With the fingertips of one hand resting lightly on his shoulder for balance, Leia lifted each foot in turn to aid him, and then he tossed the item aside to lay with the rest of the discarded clothing strewn carelessly across the tiled floor.

Taking Han's proffered hand, Leia allowed him to assist her in stepping over the edge and down into the center of the deep tub, before moving around to take a seat in the opposite curve. Han released her with some reluctance and watched as she sank down across from him into the bubbling jets of perfumed water. He grinned, hearing her gasp and seeing her eyes roll back in sheer bliss as the hot effervescence enveloped her. The little groan of pleasure she emitted then only served to ramp up the desire she'd stoked in Han with her talk of _fantasies_ and her demure little striptease. He wanted her again, though they'd been entwined together naked on their bedroom floor not long ago. Before Leia, he'd never felt a continual _want_ like that; far from quenching his desires, every encounter they shared seemed to intensify his craving for the next. It wasn't just the physical pleasure she gave him, although that was exquisitely good; it was the element of close intimacy they shared; the openness, trust and vulnerability she showed him and that he was—somehow, miraculously—able to show her in return, that Han had never experienced with anyone else. Watching her now, submerged up to her shoulders with her eyes closed and the long, dark tendrils of her hair floating and swirling all around her in the water, Han knew he'd never get over it—the thrill of seeing Leia arrayed before him, unreservedly bare and smiling serenely in a state of profound relaxation. Moments like this would never seem commonplace.

"I've never taken a bath with another person," Leia murmured in a drowsy, languid voice. Keeping the back of her neck propped against the curved edge of the tub and her arms extended to either side, she hooked her fingers lightly onto the lip of the tub and slid a little deeper into the water, letting the water bubble just underneath her chin. Opening her eyes, she met Han's gaze through the rising steam and asked, "Have you?"

Oh, so _that_ was the venture she had in mind, Han realized. She'd promised to let him in on a few more secrets, but Leia Organa was a consummate negotiator. After teasing him with a fleeting glimpse into her innermost erotic thoughts and subtly introducing her terms, she was going to make him work for more. Now it was his turn to share.

"Once or twice," he conceded, matter-of-factly. "Long time ago."

Sighing, Leia allowed her eyes to slip closed again, then fully extended her legs between Han's own much longer limbs, her toes just barely brushing against Han's skin, but stirring the water between his thighs. His groin tightened. Cracking open one eye, Leia met his gaze again and smirked. "I like it so far."

Han laughed. "I like it, too, Princess," he smiled, sliding his hands under the water to find her feet where they drifted between his legs. Capturing one slippery foot between his palms, he rubbed his thumbs up the length of the arch to her toes, kneading the delicate tissues with firm but gentle pressure. He couldn't help but smile at the little grunts of satisfaction elicited by his attentions. Her foot was tiny, small enough that his broad hands easily encompassed it in its entirety, and he rhythmically massaged the whole of it with slow, firm strokes, using his fingertips to gently caress between her toes and then rubbing his way up to her ankle. Sinking down a little further into the bubbling water, he slid his hands higher, working the firm muscles of her calf, skimming thousands of infinitesimal air bubbles from her skin as he stroked her, before venturing up to graze the thin skin and tendons at the back of her knee. Leia's eyes were closed once more and he believed her to be blissfully oblivious to anything other than his touch—but then he felt her other foot nudging against his inner thigh. Taking advantage of his change in position, she eased it a little higher, pressing a warm line up the length of his muscle with the pad of her toe. Han felt a slow smile spreading across his face as she made her subaquatic move, sliding the soft edge of her foot over the skin between his legs; tentatively at first, and then with purposeful intent. Her toes were incredibly soft and remarkably dexterous, he discovered, but it was more the novelty of the maneuver that made Han's eyebrows climb. Leia opened her eyes and, holding his gaze, used the pads of her toes in delicate exploration, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous gleam as she sought to measure his response. His body—already in a state of readiness from watching her undress—reacted swiftly and powerfully to the soft manipulations of her foot. Leia grinned, triumphant, and then withdrew, dragging the smooth curve of her instep back down the length of his thigh as she went.

"Where you takin' them toes, Princess?" Han queried with a light, playful tone.

"Just switching sides," she assured him. With a little splash, she gently extracted the foot he held in his grasp and replaced it with the one that had completed its wandering journey up and down his thigh. "Carry on."

Han leaned back against the tub and released a contented sigh as he commenced to caress and stroke the foot he now held between his hands. He was more than happy to _carry on_ and, to his utter delight, so was Leia. In fact, she _carried on_ for quite a while,until his breath grew short and he began to contemplate the logistics of getting her out of the tub and into bed—only they didn't actually _have_ a bed, he remembered, opening his eyes.

"Hey," he inquired in a lazy drawl, swimming up from the depths of mindless pleasure into which she'd immersed him. He lifted his head from the edge of the tub where he'd propped it and tried to focus on her face, blinking blearily at her through the clouds of fragrant steam. "Where did Gurk put the stuff he brought up, anyway? I don't remember seeing anything in the bedroom when I came in."

"I had him put everything in the living room," Leia explained. She hitched herself up to sit against the side of the tub, looking more than a little smug at Han's dazed state, and then smirked at the look of disappointment he flashed her as she withdrew her foot from his lap. "He's Drallan, you know, so he brought us a _mountain_ of bedding and then—well, just wait 'til you see what he did with it. He made such an effort for us, but it took all of my powers of self-control not to laugh."

"Maybe we'd better wash up and head out there, then," Han prompted. "Parts of me are starting to shrivel up in here."

Leia's dark eyes dropped down to where Han's lower body was obscured by the roiling water, and then drifted back up to meet his gaze, her eyes sparkling with an impish twinkle. "And other parts definitely are _not_ ," she observed.

Han grinned. "I had no idea you had such... _satisfying_ feet, Princess." He sat up and leaned toward her, then inched a little closer, causing the whirlpool to slosh and swirl around them. She'd drawn her legs in closer to her body but he ran his hands around under the water, groping for the softness of her skin again. "C'mon, Your Royal Tootsieness, grab the soap and let's get moving."

Leia's laughter bubbled up but she shook her head, mouthing the word _tootsieness_ and rolling her eyes. "Cool your jets, Flyboy. I still have to wash my hair."

Han could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. He would never admit it aloud to anyone else—hell, he hadn't even said as much to Leia—but he had a real _thing_ for her hair. They'd showered together many times now, and he'd even helped her wash her hair before, but those had been perfunctory undertakings, at best; necessary tasks that they'd hurried through to save water on the trip to Bespin or to save time when they were stationed on Endor. Now they had time and water in abundance. The storm outside was still going full-force—Han could hear the distant drone and whistle of the wind even over the bubbling of the whirlpool and the low hum of the autovalet—and he and his princess were going nowhere for the rest of the night.

"Swing around, Sweetheart, and hand me that bottle."

Leia complied readily, swiveling to reach for the shampoo before passing it over her shoulder to Han. She continued her rotation, keeping her knees bent as she scooched down, and then reclined between his legs enough to dip the back of her head into the water and soak her hair. Han stared for a moment, mesmerized by the sight of the foaming water sloshing over her torso, alternately obscuring and revealing her belly and breasts. He felt an unexpected pang of strong emotion—a blend of love and a sort of fierce protectiveness—as he watched her bare herself to him so freely and in such a vulnerable position.

She floated there for a moment, resting her hands on his shins to either side of her body to steady herself, and then smiled up at Han from her upside-down position. The mass of her long dark hair was now afloat all around them in the roiling water, some of the silken strands swirling against the skin of Han's abdomen in a mesmerizing pattern, and some locks drifting deeper in the water to graze his thighs and groin. Never in a million years had he imagined that a woman's hair could do anything for him—not in _that_ way—but he'd acknowledged long ago, at least to himself, that the mere sight of those dark tresses falling loose down her back really turned him on. The feel of her hair now swirling around his body like a live thing, as the tendrils caressed and tickled his skin, made him ache for her in a novel and slightly mystifying way. Baffled by the emergence of what seemed to be a new fetish, he made no move to disturb her. In truth, he hoped that she would linger for a while in that position and let him explore the intriguing sensations a little more, but before he could put the desire into words, she lifted her head and then sat up.

Musing over the fact that he adored literally everything about this woman, from the top of her head down to those _talented_ toes, and drawn by the irresistible allure of her wet, glistening hair, Han set the bottle down on the edge of the tub and reached to gather her tresses in both hands. He was fascinated by the sheer length of it—even longer now, it seemed, due to the weight of the water in it, and darker, too. It was beautiful, ineffably feminine and so intrinsic to Leia, he supposed it was no wonder he had such an affinity for it. He released it slowly from his grasp, allowing the wet strands to slip through his fingers and fall in a heavy mass down over the graceful curve of her back, then watched, captivated, as the ends that hung down below the surface of the water began to billow out once more in the roiling current. With his thighs bracketing her hips, and her body tucked up close against his, the swirling torrent of her hair teased and tickled his bare skin, and Han fought to keep his focus as he retrieved the bottle, uncapped it, and poured a measure of shampoo into one cupped palm. Remembering the lessons she'd given him the first time he'd rendered such services, he lathered the fragrant liquid between his hands and then smoothed it over her hair, working it gently into the crown of her head before beginning to comb it through to the ends. Then, gathering the frothy mass together, he piled it atop her head and began to massage her scalp with his fingertips.

Leia sighed and released a little groan. " _Gods,_ Han….your hands."

He paused and craned his neck around to peer at her profile. "What about 'em?"

" _Nnnmnnmmnng_ ," was her inarticulate response as she motioned for him to continue. Her eyes were closed and she sounded almost drugged. "Just... _don't stop._ Keep doing that."

Han grinned and resumed his ministrations, then paused for a moment to lean in and plant an affectionate kiss on her flushed cheek. "As you wish, Your Highness." He carried on with the slow massage, taking his time and attending to every little sigh and moan she emitted, paying special attention to the sensitive places on her scalp that made her quiver when he grazed them with his fingers. The divine feeling of her soapy hair under his hands and the heady scent of Arallute in the air combined to make Han feel a little drugged himself. He noted with satisfaction how the residual tension in Leia's neck and shoulders visibly dissipated as he worked his way down behind her delicate ears and to the nape of her neck. He continued his caresses long after her hair must have been thoroughly clean—indeed, until her head dropped down so far her chin rested on her chest, and her arms went slack. Unable to resist, he wrapped his arms around her then and pressed a warm kiss to the curve of her shoulder. She stirred and lifted her head, then turned her face to his and offered her lips. They shared a slow, lingering kiss that made Han's entire body thrum, and he had the fleeting thought again that they needed to get out of the tub and into something resembling a bed. That sense of need was heightened when Leia wriggled her hips backwards, wedging herself a little more firmly between his thighs, and rested her hands just above his knees. The slick sensation of her bare skin and the swell of her bottom pressed firmly against his aching groin was tantalizing to the point of distraction. He lifted his hands to her hair again and started unwinding the strands coiled atop her crown.

"You're just... _so good_ at that," Leia sighed, reaching up to comb her fingers through her lathered hair, straightening the locks and letting them fall down over her shoulders.

Han smirked. "I know."

Leia snorted. "Lots of practice, I suppose?" She scooted away from him, creating a current that pulled the water with her as she moved, and sent it splashing back against his chest as she reclined between his legs again, dunking her head back into the water to rinse the suds away.

She squinted up at him as she scrubbed her fingers through her hair, loosening the soap and letting it flow away with the roiling of the water. Han could only hope that her upside-down perspective would disguise the renewed look of unexpected euphoria that he was certain must have washed over his face as her silken hair swished and swirled around his hips once more.

"Practice?" he echoed and then gave a nonchalant shrug. "Only on Chewie. But we don't talk about that."

Leia burst out laughing—a full-throated laugh of surprise that made her whole body shake between Han's knees, the vibrations sending tiny splashes of water up and over her face. He grinned down at her.

"Oh, you are such a —," she sputtered, still laughing as she pulled herself back into a sitting position, her sodden hair streaming water. She twisted around to face him, her eyes sparkling. "You've definitely done that before." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Not before you, Princess," he responded sincerely, then cleared his throat and reached for the shampoo bottle again. The feminine, floral scent of it wouldn't have been his first preference, but he didn't have much of a choice. He tipped a small measure into his hand and set the bottle down before slapping his palm atop his head and getting to work washing his own hair. He gave her a wink. "I'm a quick study."

Leia smiled in acknowledgement of his comment and then gestured towards his hair. "Let me do that," she offered. "It's only fair."

Han readily agreed, especially because the very wet and naked princess was now sitting on her heels facing him, with the steaming water bubbling around her waist and her upper torso covered in patches of foamy soap that slid in a lazy pattern down the lush contours of her bare breasts. He swallowed hard, transfixed by the path of bubbles as they subsided, revealing more and more tempting glimpses of her flushed skin in their wake.

"Damn, Leia," he breathed. "You're so…." His voice trailed off as Leia lifted her hands to his head and started working the shampoo into his short hair. Han felt as though he'd lost the ability to speak, captivated both by the delicious sensation of her delicate fingertips grazing his scalp, and by the mesmerizing sight of her body.

"Like what you see, Flyboy?" Leia's voice was rich with amusement.

Blinking out of his trance, Han could only grunt. He spent a long moment watching the movement of her breasts as she scrunched her fingers through his hair, and then he reached for her. She was so _soft_ and her breasts filled his palms with such a delicious weight that he couldn't help but caress them, running the pads of his thumbs over the stiffening nipples that peeked out from underneath the dissipating layer of bubbles.

Leia's dark lashes veiled her eyes for a moment as she glanced down at what he was doing, then she lifted her gaze to his and he saw the light of pleasure and approval glinting there.

"So...you've never washed anyone else's hair but mine," Leia ventured, turning the conversation back to his earlier comment as she continued to lightly knead his scalp. She sounded intrigued. "Which means I was your first in at least _one_ way. That's interesting."

Han stilled the motion of his hands on her body and fixed her with a solemn gaze. "Sweetheart, you're a first for me in a _lot_ of ways."

"Is that so?" she challenged lightly, sliding her fingers through the hair at his temples, then curling them around his ears. "Name _one_."

"Those toes, for a start."

Leia laughed.

"Where'd you get _that_ idea, anyway?" Han queried, watching her face.

"I have a vivid imagination," she said, and then quirked up one fine eyebrow. "And the holonet."

Han gave her a fond smile. "You been studying up on techniques, Princess? Trying to impress me?"

Leia's expression changed and her eyes slid away; she looked suddenly, unaccountably shy. Giving a little shrug, she reached over to the edge of the tub for the bottle of liquid soap the concierge had supplied, then glanced around the edge of the tiled surround, her brow furrowing. " _Hmm_. Looks like Mister Gurk forgot to bring us a sponge or anything to wash with," she remarked.

Her silence in response to his gibe gave Han pause, striking a tiny chord of disquiet in what had been an otherwise thoroughly pleasurable interlude. It wasn't at all like Leia to ignore an egotistical remark like that from him; in fact, it was part of their everyday repartee for him to throw aloft some conceited quip or other, and for her to shoot it down. The banter between them had long been their peculiar form of foreplay, and Han always enjoyed it. He thought Leia did, too, but the absence of a tart retort to his teasing made him wonder. "Hey, Sweetheart," he murmured, and then waited until she flicked her eyes back up to meet his. "I didn't mean—"

"I'm not trying to _impress_ you," Leia interjected, her dark eyes flashing. She bit the inside of her cheek and then gave a little huff of impatience. "That's not the right word." Her shoulders sagged a bit as she dropped her gaze down to focus on the bubbling water between them, and then slanted a glance back upwards through her lashes. "But I _am_ …just…." She faltered again, appearing to struggle for a moment to choose her next words. Finally, she gave a resigned little shrug and a faint, self-conscious smile. "I want to please you."

Han's heart clenched and he gaped at her, momentarily at a loss for words in the face of such a vulnerable confession. Leia was always so perfectly confident and self-assured, he sometimes lost sight of the fact that her experience of intimacy was relatively limited, and she was still finding her way. He slid his hands down to her waist and applied a gentle traction, seeking to pull her closer. Pliantly, Leia shifted in the water, coming up to her knees for a moment and then moving to sit astride him. Han straightened his legs beneath her as she settled, warmly welcoming the weight of her across his lap. She nestled in close, fitting her body to his, and slipped her arms around his neck, but her eyes still skated away. He could see the barely perceptible working of her jaw, the telltale sign that she was nibbling the inside of her cheek again, signaling her mild discomfiture.

"Leia," Han lifted a wet hand up to cup her face, running his thumb along the curve of her cheek and waiting until she returned her gaze to his once more. Her brown eyes were liquid in the shimmering light reflected from the water. "You don't even need to try, _mielo_ ," he murmured, inadvertently lapsing into his native tongue as he tried to convey the depth of his feeling on this important point. "I don't want you to—. Look...I mean—." He took a deep breath to clear the jumble of words crowding his mouth, as he tightened one embracing arm around her waist and tried again. "You _do_ please me, Sweetheart," he assured her, weighting his voice with deepest sincerity. He skimmed his thumb over her cheek again in a loving caress. Another thought suddenly struck him then—a reason, perhaps, for Leia to be thinking along these lines in the first place—and he blurted, "Wait a minute. Do _I_ please _you_?"

Leia blinked, looking slightly startled, and then broke into a wide smile before leaning in to capture his mouth in a tender, reassuring kiss. Drawing back, she met his gaze and said solemnly and with firm conviction, "Yes."

" _Phew,_ " Han grinned. "Had me worried there."

Leia snorted gently. "Oh, you _know_ you have nothing to worry about in that department, Hotshot. I think I've been...quite explicit on that point." Her cheeks tinted pink. "And I know I please you, too, Han. I _do_ know that," she emphasized, meeting his gaze. "It's just…well...I don't really have any frame of reference, you know...and I would hate to think…." she trailed off, biting her lip.

"What?" he urged.

"That with my...lack of experience...you'd ever get…." She bowed her head as she was speaking, and Han strained to hear the final word that was lost amid the sound of bubbling water. In all the years he'd known her, Han had never seen the princess so discomfited or so tongue-tied.

"What, Leia?"

She squirmed a little. "...bored," she said at last, raising eyes that held an uncharacteristic diffidence in their depths.

A bark of laughter escaped Han before he could suppress it. " _Bored?_ " he echoed, his voice strained with disbelief. "With _you?_ Sweetheart, bored is the furthest thing from my mind when I'm with you. _You blow my mind._ "

Leia rolled her eyes and pushed the flats of her hands against his shoulders. "Oh, _don't._ I know I keep you on your toes in every _other_ aspect —"

"Hey," Han sobered and tightened his grip on her, willing her to feel the strength of his conviction on this subject. "In _every_ aspect, Leia. I mean it. Look —"

"Han," Leia interrupted, "you can't tell me that this...with me...is the most outrageous or exciting —"

He held up an interdicting finger. "Not the most outrageous, no," he conceded. "But the most exciting? It sure as hell is."

Although Leia seemed to appreciate the sentiment behind his comment, he could see the shade of skepticism lurking in her eyes and he felt the strong urge to clear some things up between them, absolutely and unequivocally, once and for all. If he was gonna do this with her, he realized, conscious of a sudden fierce resolve on the matter, he was gonna go _all-in._

"Sweetheart, this…," he let his eyes roam the room and then lifted his hands out of the water to spread his arms wide, trying to indicate the entirety of the new life they were establishing. "This thing we're doing together...it _is_ the most exciting thing I've ever done. With any woman. With _anyone._ Hands down, no competition."

Leia gave him a dubious smile. "Right, but—"

"No _buts_ , I mean it. C'mere." He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her close, raining kisses all over her face.

Leia squirmed and laughed, trying to extricate her slippery limbs from his wet grasp. Then her laughter subsided and, planting a hand against his chest, she pushed him gently back and regarded him with a serious expression. "Honestly, though, I meant—"

"I _know_ what you meant," he assured her. "We're talking about the same thing, here. This, with you, it…it _thrills_ me, Leia. Everything we do together, _with_ each other, _to_ each other, is just…." he trailed off, lost for words sufficient to describe the depth of his feelings.

She cast him a sidelong glance. "It's just...what?"

"It's just... _the best_ ," he averred in a tone of absolute finality. "We can watch all the kinky holos you want, Sweetheart," he continued, smiling at the brief sparkle that flashed in her eyes at _that_ possibility, "and we can try anything you wanna try. Hey, I'm game. But I don't need acrobatics or gimmicks or costumes or anything _outrageous_ to turn me on. What turns me on is _you._ You wanting to be with me, _being yourself_ with me, doing _whatever you want to do_ with me. That's exciting. And trust me, Princess, I ain't ever gonna get bored with _that_."

With her eyes now trained on the roiling water, Leia inhaled deeply, seeming to ponder over his words for a moment, and then a slow smile crossed her face. She shifted to resettle herself across his lap, laced her fingers behind his head, and then slanted a glance up to meet his eyes once more. In that moment, Han knew that his impassioned little speech had resonated with her and settled any lingering doubts.

"No acrobatics, huh?" she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

Han raised one eyebrow. "Well...maybe just a _few…_ on special occasions. Why? You got some new moves to show me?"

"Maybe later," Leia smirked. "And did you say _no costumes_ , too? Does that mean I can ditch the fancy lingerie and go back to wearing standard-issue Alliance underwear?"

Han glowered at her. "Don't even joke about that."

Leia threw back her head and laughed, and Han took the opportunity to dip his head down to kiss her throat. Now that he'd successfully navigated through that unexpected asteroid field he was keen to get them back on course. Leia seemed similarly motivated, he was pleased to note, as he trailed more kisses up the side of her neck and nuzzled behind her ear. Straightening slightly, Leia tilted her face to his and found his mouth. Her slow, tender kiss rekindled the warm glow that coursed through Han's body, dimming only slightly when Leia retreated, drawing back with the light of curiosity dancing in her eyes.

"So...what _is_ the most outrageous thing you've ever done?" she queried. Her venturesome spark had returned, lighting up her pretty face with renewed enthusiasm.

Han smirked, rolling his eyes at her continued line of questioning. "With a woman?" he gibed.

Leia looked mildly startled. "Well, have you ever been with a _man_?"

Han laughed and pulled her closer, peppering kisses along the curve of her jaw. "Never. Not my thing, Sweetheart."

"Cross species?"

Han cringed inwardly. He hoped she didn't question him too much about that one. It had been so long ago that his memory was hazy; and besides, he'd been very, very drunk. "Yes… _technically_ …I suppose." He waited with some trepidation for her to probe for further details along those lines, but she let him slide, already intent upon her next question.

"More than one person at a time?"

Han paused for a second and then gave a short nod, quirking his lips to one side but remaining silent. He thought the less said about _that_ , too, the better. Briefly, he wondered if his admission would shock her, but Leia only nodded back, and offered a curious smile. "So...how was it?" she pressed.

Han drew in a deep breath, letting his eyes roam all around the room as he took a moment to think and to weigh his answer. Finally, he looked at her, shrugged, and expelled his breath in a rush. "Overrated."

Leia laughed again. "Good. Because that's one thing I have no interest in experiencing."

Han was glad to hear it; he didn't like the idea of sharing Leia's affections with anyone else—the intimacy and trust between them was something special and, to his mind, intensely private. He was gratified to know she felt the same way.

"Sounds like I have a little catching up to do, though," Leia mused aloud. "So far, this is the most outrageous thing _I've_ ever done: sitting naked in the bath with a man…." As she spoke, she reached up to thread her fingers through his lathered hair once more, smirking a little as she sculpted the short strands into comical shapes that evidently amused her.

"Not only that," Han pointed out, quirking up one eyebrow and affecting an exaggerated, ribald leer, "but since Gurk forgot the sponges, I'm gonna have to wash you _with my bare hands_." To emphasize his point, he skimmed his palms up the length of her sides, delighting in Leia's low murmur of appreciation and the shiver he elicited with his wandering caress.

"Yes, which means I'm going to have to wash _you_ with my bare hands, too," Leia pointed out, matching his flirtatious stare with a playfully lascivious ogle of her own.

"Gee, that's too bad," Han deadpanned. "Guess I'll have to suffer through it, somehow."

To his delight, Leia set to work immediately, reaching for the liquid soap and tipping a measure into her palm before handing him the bottle and lathering her hands together. She started with his forehead, the pads of her fingertips making tiny circles on his skin along his hairline and tracing the shape of his brows and all around his eyes before making her way down the bridge of his nose, pausing to plop a dollop of foam on the tip with a mischievous wink. In this careful fashion, she washed and rinsed his entire face and then turned her attention to his ears and neck. The bottle of soap drifted from Han's fingertips and went bobbing around the whirlpool, forgotten, as he relaxed into the curve of the tub, closed his eyes and tilted his chin up to give her access to his throat. Leia flexed against him as she worked, and he had no doubt that every slippery movement of her body was calculated and deliberate, as was the occasional tantalizing brush of her nipples against his chest. That sensation, together with the friction of her soft thighs gliding over his as her fingers simultaneously caressed and lathered the skin of his chest and shoulders, was heady enough. But when she began to writhe slowly in his lap, her knees tightening around his hips under the water as she pressed the crux of her body against his, the ache for her that had subsided only marginally during their heartfelt exposition came surging back.

With a groan, he cracked open one eye and fumbled for the bottle of soap, which was now bobbing against the side of the tub, trapped in an eddy. Tipping a generous amount into his palm, he released the bottle back to the current and rubbed his hands together, and then set to work washing Leia's lithe form. She leaned back slightly to aid his reach, and he smoothed the rich lather first over the curve of her shoulders, and then traveled in an upward path along the soft angles of her neck, sliding synchronized fingers and thumbs behind and around her ears before skimming down over the front to the little hollow at the base of her throat. He continued across her collarbones, stroking and working the lather in a light, circular pattern, and then lifted one graceful arm out of the water to follow a slick path down towards her wrist. Cradling her hand in his, he stroked his thumb across her palm and, turning her hand over, massaged the back, working his way down to the tips of her delicate fingers with gentle precision. When he released her hand to repeat the motion on the other side, she dropped it down to his chest and began tracing a fingertip through the foamy soap that still clung to his skin.

"I love you so much, Han," she said suddenly, the words erupting from her in a rush that sounded almost confessional, as if it were something he didn't already know.

Han paused what he was doing and leaned into her, nudging her cheek with his nose, seeking a kiss. She gave him one—a sweet kiss infused with all of her love and trust and longing, as she drew her hands up to frame his face between her palms. He returned her kiss with warmth, sliding his soapy hands all around her slender body as his mouth devoured hers. When they broke apart, he caught her gaze and said, "I _know,_ Sweetheart. I told you, you're a first for me in a lot of ways, and that's one of 'em. For the first time in my life, I really do _know_ what that means."

Leia stared at him, breath suspended for a heartbeat, and then she broke into the brightest smile he'd ever seen, a smile that crinkled her eyes and showed her even white teeth. He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and then another to her jaw before pressing his lips to her ear and murmuring with heartfelt sincerity, "I love you, too."

Then her arms were around his neck again, pulling him close, her breasts pressed flat against his chest as she kissed him with ardent intensity. Han groaned and deepened the kiss, hungrily stroking her tongue with his as he ran his wet hands up and down her spine, sliding along the soft contours of her bare back and shivering with pleasure as her wet hair brushed against the back of his wrists. Abruptly, he decided that both he and the princess were plenty clean enough.

"C'mon, Sweetheart," he breathed against her parted lips when they finally broke for air. "We gotta get outta this tub."

"What's wrong with here?" she queried, drawing back a touch to meet his gaze. She pressed her core against his rigid length under the bubbling water. "Feels good to me," she sighed.

"Yeah, well," Han grimaced. "It won't feel good for long."

Leia blinked. "Don't tell me that hot tub sex is overrated, too?"

Han gave a little wince. Although distant memory urged him to avoid the act, it occurred to him suddenly that if Leia were ever going to undertake that particular experience, it was going to be with _him_ —he certainly _hoped_ it would only ever be with him—and he didn't want to deprive her of the opportunity to satisfy her curiosity. "Only one way to find out, Sweetheart," he smiled, and slid his hands down to her hips. "C'mere."

They were already so close, their bodies pressed so intimately together, it took only a slight adjustment, the tiniest shift of position on Leia's part, to bring Han's straining erection into place. As Leia took him slowly into her body and settled her weight across his hips once more, he had the fleeting thought that his prior recollections must be faulty. The sensation of her enveloping him was so deeply pleasurable, he felt his eyes roll back, and then he dropped his head back on the edge of the tub for a moment to concentrate on the sensation. Leia undulated against him and he groaned, overwhelmed by the molten heat of her, even hotter than the surrounding water, and so blissfully soft and tight. His hands gripped and kneaded the flesh of her bottom, pulling her against him as his body began to move instinctively, while all around them the effervescent water roiled and bubbled. Leia clung to him, her fingers gripping his shoulders for leverage as she moved, her lips at his ear whispering both her pleasure and her desire.

Her whispers changed tenor, though, after a few moments, and then her movements ceased. Han lifted his eyes to hers and gave her a knowing smile.

" _Umm_...I think I see what you mean," Leia murmured, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

Han offered an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, Sweetheart. Why don't we move this into the bedroom...or the living room, wherever that pile of blankets is."

Leia nodded her acquiescence and was preparing to make a move when they were plunged into sudden darkness, and the turbulent water around them abruptly stilled. Leia gasped and Han tensed, cursing himself for a fool for leaving his blaster in the bag atop the vanity counter. In a blink, he found himself calculating the moves it would take him to reach it—to dislodge Leia, vault out of the tub, and reach his weapon before the threat, whatever it was, could make an appearance at the fresher door.

"Han," Leia soothed, evidently reading the tension in his body and realizing where his thoughts had gone. With the fresher door closed, the windowless room was completely dark, but her fingertips easily found his face and she gave his jaw a calming caress. "It's just the storm."

As soon as she said it, he realized she was probably right. In the sudden hush created by the silencing of both the bubbling bath and the humming autovalet, he could hear the distant clamor of the rain that continued to lash against the windows, along with the muffled rumbling of thunder. He gave a short laugh. "I'm gettin' soft," he observed, blinking ineffectively against the pitch blackness. "My blaster's all the way across the damn room."

"Some bodyguard you are," she agreed dryly.

Indignant, Han jostled her in his lap. "Yeah, well, where's _your_ weapon, Princess Smartypants?"

"Funny you should ask," she retorted. He felt her weight shift as she stretched across, and then heard her fumbling around in the area atop the tiled surround where the stack of towels resided. After a moment, she settled back across his lap, found his hand by feel, and then planted what felt like a tiny holdout blaster in his palm. "Right here, Hotshot."

Han gaped, grateful that she couldn't see his face. "What's this? A Czerka-77?"

"T-3," Leia corrected, her voice sounding more than a little smug. Even in the dark, he could sense the radiant glow of her triumphant smirk. "The 77's too big for me."

"Nice," Han pronounced. He was impressed and didn't mind showing it. Trust Leia to bring a blaster pistol to a bubble bath, he mused, unable to suppress a grin.

"Can you give me your hand?" Leia requested as she eased from his lap. He felt her rise above him, droplets of water raining down on him as she stood up in the tub. He gave her his hand to steady her as she stepped out and down the shallow steps, then held out the blaster pistol for her to take. She reached for it in the dark and he heard her soft footsteps padding over the tiled floor.

"Cover me," he joked, scooching down in the tub and reclining back to dip his head into the water. "I gotta get this shampoo out." He scrubbed his fingers through his hair a few times to rid it of suds, then sat up and sluiced himself off with cupped handfuls of water, before climbing to his feet and preparing to exit the bath.

"Can you even see what you're doing over there?" came Leia's query from across the room.

"I don't need to see. I think I can find my way around my own body in the dark, Sweetheart," he said dryly, stepping with care down to the floor, and then turning to grope around the tiled surround for one of the towels.

"Good to know," Leia responded, her rich voice taking on a teasing tone. He heard her soft footsteps as she crossed the floor, and then the sound of the fresher door being manually released. The spacious room was faintly illuminated by grey light streaming in from the bedroom windows. Leia paused in the doorway, her lithe, feminine figure and the trailing tendrils of her long hair silhouetted against the dim backdrop. "Considering we may be without lights for a while…" She cast a coy glance in his direction as she turned away, and the sound of her voice drifted behind her as she disappeared from view. "Think you can find your way around mine?"

-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-

 **End note:** Thanks to all who read and review. Your encouraging messages keep us writing!


	7. Chapter 7 - Sound and Silence

**Domestic Bliss: Chapter 7**

 **Sound and Silence**

 **By Erin Darroch and Justine Graham**

 _This_ was an image that would be forever etched in Han's memory: the sight of Leia waiting for him, completely bare, her slender body bathed in the pale silver light streaming through the tall, curtainless windows of the living room, while on the other side of the glass the darkness deepened and the storm raged on. Even if he lived to be as old as Chewie, Han decided, he would never forget the glimpse of her alluring figure, so supple and beautifully feminine, with her long hair, still damp, falling tangled and wild down her back. Intermittent flickers of lightning gave her pale curves an ethereal glow that seemed to persist for a heartbeat afterwards, leaving her skin glimmering faintly even in the dull intervals.

This vision was one of a thousand other mental snapshots he'd taken over the years and his brain sifted through that inventory now, as it often did when adding a new one to his collection. There was something especially satisfying about comparing _this_ view of Leia—relaxed and waiting for him without a stitch of clothing on—to the other images he hoarded in memory. They'd endured many uncertain and painful moments in their fractious courtship, but a moment like this made all those difficulties seem immaterial, forgotten as readily as a dream at dawn. He stood poised at the edge of the sunken living room for a moment longer, appreciating both the beauty of the scene and the somewhat surreal sensation of being lucky enough to witness it. He filed the memory away, to be retrieved at some future date when they were light-years apart and he was grappling with emotions he still found a little strange, like loneliness and longing. Smiling to himself, he turned away and began navigating carefully through the dark apartment, sensing more than seeing his way to the environmental control panel embedded in the wall near the main door.

Although he'd wrapped a towel around his hips, he found the air outside the fresher more than a little cool on the rest of his exposed skin. A few quick taps of the controls, he thought, and he should be able to feel the heating elements under the floor kicking in to warm the soles of his bare feet. A few more taps and the ambient room temperature would rise, and make lounging around in the nude with Leia a little more comfortable—an enticing prospect that kept Han's ardor simmering hot, despite the chill air. He tapped on the panel a few more times and then squinted at it, trying to make out the controls in the faint light as he dimly wondered why the press of his fingers was having no effect. Then it dawned on him.

"Good idea, Laserbrain," Leia's rich alto floated to his ears, her voice loaded with amusement as she correctly surmised what he'd been trying to do. "But there's _no electricity_ , remember?"

Grimacing in mild chagrin at his own mental lapse, Han chalked it up to a brain addled by thwarted lust, and headed back towards the living room, intent upon picking up with Leia where they'd left off. He stepped down into the lushly carpeted space and approached her position, smiling again at the sight of her bare and lovely figure. Even with the power out, there was enough ambient light filtering through the windows to allow him to make out her form and features, and he was already thinking about how much fun it was going to be finding his way around her body in the dark—and generating their own heat. Though his focus was on the princess, he couldn't help but notice the substantial mound of cushions and bedding that Concierge Gurk had delivered for their use; the collection had been carefully arranged in the center of the floor near where Leia stood, and it looked remarkably similar to a typical Drallan nesting burrow—albeit one fashioned from pale textiles instead of wood, bark and moss. Han quirked an eyebrow at the sight, but turned his attention back to Leia, keen to recapture the intimate mood they'd shared in the bath.

As she turned towards him, though, Leia crossed her arms over her chest and hugged her own shoulders, tilting her chin up and giving him a rueful smile. "I thought I'd be brave and just stroll around the place in the raw, like you do," she said, then dropped her gaze down to his towel-clad hips. Lifting her eyes to his again, she arched one fine eyebrow. "But it's colder out here than I expected, and now _you_ appear to have had a sudden attack of modesty."

"Me?" Han gave her his best shocked expression. "Nah. I may be humble _,_ sure. But _modest_? Never." In one smooth motion, he flicked the towel from around his hips and, with a flourish, wrapped it around her body.

Leia lifted her arms out of the way and smirked affectionately at him as he tucked in the overlapping edges of the towel above her breasts, and then gently pulled the trailing ends of her hair free at the back. Once she was snugly bundled up, Han drew her into his embrace and sighed with satisfaction as she slipped her arms around his bare waist and nestled into him, pressing her cheek against his chest.

"Too bad about the heating," he murmured. "I wanted to see you frolicking around the place in the buff for a while longer." He tightened his arms around her and pressed an emphatic kiss to the top of her head. "That's the best damn thing I've ever seen."

Leia gave a soft snort, her warm breath stirring the hair on his chest. "I've never _frolicked_ in my life."

"No? Well, that's too bad, Princess," Han made a light _tsk_ with his tongue and craned his neck around to catch her eye. "Maybe you should try it now," he suggested. "It'll warm you right up."

A low laugh bubbled up from Leia and she tilted her head back to peer up at him. "What do _you_ know about frolicking?"

"You'd be surprised," Han teased. "I might even let you _watch_ me frolic, once I get to know you a little better."

"And I thought I knew you so well already," Leia said in a mournful tone, though her dark eyes sparkled with amusement and her smile widened.

"Oh, you know me better'n anybody, Sweetheart, but...," he paused for effect and slanted another look down at her upturned face, "I gotta preserve a little mystery, you know. Keep you interested. And anyway," he ventured, "I bet there's still a few things I don't know about _you."_

"Maybe," she allowed. "But the list is getting shorter all the time, and I assure you that a secret love of frolicking around in the nude is _not_ one of them. In fact," she mused aloud, "I don't suppose I've _ever_ strolled around without clothes on unless I was getting into the shower..." Her voice trailed off on a note of mild wonder and her thoughtful gaze shifted away, as if that fact had only just become apparent to her.

"Not the kind of thing you'd do on base, I guess, considering the kind of climates we usually have to put up with," Han agreed. "And not the kind of thing you'd do on my ship either, _apparently_ , despite my best efforts to talk you into it."

Leia laughed softly and burrowed a little deeper against his chest. Despite the dim light, Han could see that her skin was still flushed from the steaming heat of the bath, but it had begun to prickle as the chilly air leached the residual heat from her body. All that damp hair wasn't helping, either—the tangled strands clung to her skin, and tiny rivulets of water ran steadily down her back and her shoulders, dribbling onto Han's bare arms where they encircled her body.

A boom of thunder from outside gave them both a mild jolt and garnered Han's attention. Through the balcony windows, he could see the wrath of the wind and rain that still prevailed, driving heavy sheets of water against the glass that obscured all but the faintest glimpse of the outside. Far from subsiding, the storm seemed to have intensified during the time they'd been in the bath. In the brief moments when the sky wasn't ablaze with sporadic flashes of electricity, the normally brightly-lit harbor below appeared strangely darkened; it seemed the power outage extended all along the harborside. Only the faintest of residual light was visible, coming from the emergency lights along the boardwalk and dotted around the docks and marinas that jutted out into the water. As Han squinted to see through the bleary glass, another heavy hail of rain spattered against the surface, and he felt Leia shiver against him.

"C'mon, Sweetheart," he urged. "If we ain't gonna frolic, there's no sense standing here freezing." Releasing her, he stepped over to the makeshift bed, sank to a crouch, lifted the top edge of the layer of blankets and drew them back in invitation. "Get in," he said, jerking his chin toward the centre of the pallet. "But give me your towel first."

Leia glanced from Han to the mound of linens and back again—and then, holding his gaze, slowly unwrapped the towel from around herself and, for the briefest instant, held it wide. It was a fleeting but very intentional display of her bare body that set fire to Han's blood and sent it thrumming through his veins. He decided in that moment that there was _nothing_ in the galaxy he loved more than Leia Organa deliberately enticing him. She dropped her brief pose, handed him the towel with a faint smile, and then moved past him into the padded nest. Han's heated gaze followed, roaming over her lissome figure as she moved, and he felt his ache for her intensify.

Words in his native tongue sprang to mind, phrases he could never seem to articulate to her in Basic. Even if he could, he thought, their true meaning would probably be lost in translation. Raw, lusty, carnal expressions flickered through his thoughts, sentiments he held back in these moments of anticipation, but which seemed to spill out of him unchecked in the throes of passion. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling the urge to tell her _now_ —how good she looked, what he wanted to do to her, what he wanted _her_ to do to him—but he held his tongue. They had plenty of time to get to that point, he figured; it was still early in the evening and they had the whole night ahead of them. Reining in his desire to drag her down with him into the nest of pillows, he moved into the perimeter of the roughly circular structure, stepping carefully on the thickly piled textiles, and positioned himself at her back. Leia was still standing, having paused to gather her damp hair over one shoulder as she prepared to sit. She twisted halfway around to look at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Gonna dry your hair," Han replied, and then motioned for her to turn around. "You can't sleep with it like that, can you? Take a seat."

"Who said anything about sleeping?" Leia teased, though she followed his directive and settled down, cross-legged, in the middle of the cozy pallet.

Han sank down to his knees behind her, and then sat back on his heels and reached for her hair with both hands, sweeping it back over the curve of her shoulder to spill down the length of her back once more. "Well, we are going to sleep... _eventually_ ," Han said, weighting the last word with promise as he gathered the heavy locks in his hands. "But I haven't lived with a Wookiee for over ten years without learning a little bit about what happens to long hair when it gets wet and you don't comb it out. Although, I gotta say, your hair smells _a_ _lot_ better than Chewie's."

"Wait," Leia twisted around again and stared at him, her eyes alight with amusement. "Are you telling me you've—"

Han stopped her with a mock scowl and a sternly pointed index finger. "That's another thing we don't talk about," he said, and then grinned as Leia erupted in pealing laughter, her head dropping back for a moment as she gave herself up to mirth. Making Leia laugh like that—so freely and with genuine glee—was another favorite thing right up at the top of Han's list. Leaning around, he cradled the side of her head in one hand and kissed the corner of her smiling mouth, then motioned again for her to face forward. "Alright, turn around and let me get started before I come to my senses and forget about your hair altogether."

Leia's laughter subsided, though a smile still danced in her eyes as she obeyed his request, turning to sit straight-backed in front of his knees with her hands resting loosely in her lap.

Taking up the towel, Han wrapped it around a narrow section of hair and held it firmly between his clasped hands, soaking up the excess water, squeezing and blotting gently from the roots down to the ends. He took his time, combing the damp strands lightly with his fingers to separate them after he'd removed as much moisture as possible, enjoying the companionable silence that settled between them. It was a novel and altogether pleasant experience for Han to have utterly free time on his hands, a long span of hours without even the demands of his ship or space travel to meet, and with no plans other than to spend time with Leia and, perhaps, to run a few domestic errands in the day ahead. He smiled inwardly at the thought of shopping for a bed—and perhaps a mirror—for their bedroom, and let his mind drift away in speculation over just how much he could get away with before Leia called it _tacky_ and reined him in.

After a long, quiet interlude during which he continued to work his way methodically through her hair, Leia's head lolled back and her eyes fluttered shut. "General Solo, you've made a tactical error," she sighed, and then languorously straightened her posture again.

Bemused, Han quirked an eyebrow behind her back. "I have?"

" _Mm-hm._ Now that I know how nice it is to have you attend to my hair," she murmured, sounding relaxed to the point of drowsiness, "I may need you to do it every night." She sighed again. "You'd have to quit your day job, though, and stick close to me. No more roaming around the galaxy, fighting bad guys."

Han grinned, though she couldn't see his expression. "Just say the word, Sweetheart." He lifted the next section of hair and gently separated it from the rest. "My services don't come cheap, y'know. But for you...I think I could offer a pretty good rate."

"Surely I would qualify for a substantial discount?" Leia said with a soft laugh. Relaxing into his attentions, she uncrossed her legs and edged her hips backward by degrees. Han shifted his kneeling stance and parted his thighs, allowing her to reverse until the swell of her bottom was pressed against the crux of his body, mirroring the comfortable and intimate position they had so recently shared in the bubbling bliss of the whirlpool. The touch of Leia's bare skin against his own—and her obvious desire to be as close to him as possible—gave Han a jolt of pleasure and sent a rush of heat streaking southward, and he realized then that his earlier resolve to show some self-restraint was probably shaky at best. Stilling his hands for a moment, he gave in to his craving and lowered his lips to the soft skin of Leia's shoulder, and then slowly trailed a string of heated kisses all the way up the angle of her neck, smiling as she tilted her head to one side to facilitate his progress.

"I might even be persuaded to do it for free," he murmured as he nuzzled behind her ear, delighting in the shiver elicited by his touch.

"Oh?" Leia asked, sounding both amused and a little breathless. "And just what would I need to do to _persuade_ you?"

Han smiled against her ear. "Gimme a minute. I'm sure I can think of something."

From his vantage point, looking down over her shoulder, he had an enticing view of her breasts, their lovely contours limned in watery silver light, and intermittently illuminated by flickers of lightning. Nudging her cheek with his nose, he scraped his teeth lightly across her earlobe and watched in fascination as her skin prickled and her nipples stiffened in response. She shivered and moved restlessly between his knees again, brushing against him and sending another tantalizing wave of pleasure arcing through his body. It was getting difficult to concentrate on the task at hand, but Han forced himself to sit back and made his hands resume their ministrations while his body grew taut with anticipation.

He continued working through Leia's hair until most of the moisture had been wicked away, and then bundled up the damp towel and tossed it to the side. Then, with Leia's supple body swaying between his thighs, he buried his fingers into the crown of her hair and began massaging her scalp with gentle pressure, carefully smoothing out the tangles as he worked his way down from the roots. He repeated the motion, allowing his fingertips to trace the whole shape of her head as he progressed, revisiting the unique contours he'd explored earlier while washing her hair, and committing every centimeter of her skull to tactile memory. He smiled at the predictability of her responses when he deliberately grazed the most sensitive places: the crescents behind her delicate ears and the little divot just above the soft nape of her neck. Seducing Leia—even when she was already clearly in the mood—was by far his favorite pastime these days, and he very much enjoyed learning new ways to do it. His present efforts were having the desired effect, too, judging by her faint groans of approval. When she spoke, her voice was so soft he could barely hear it above the spatter of rain against the windows and the muffled, eerie howling of the wind.

"On second thought, Flyboy, if you take the job, you can name your price," she murmured.

Han grinned and contemplated that offer for a moment.

"Tell you what," he ventured, continuing the movement of his fingers but leaning in a little closer to her back, enjoying the cool, silky rustle of her hair against his abdomen. "I'll keep going, but my _price_ is...you gotta tell me one of those secrets you promised. More of what you like."

Leia was silent for a moment. "Like...watching you strip?" she queried at length.

Although Han couldn't see her face, he could hear her smile. He grinned in response. "Sure," he affirmed, and then added, "Or things you think you _might_ like…. "

Angling her body around slightly, Leia slanted a look over her shoulder at him, her dark eyes glinting in the dim light. "We tried one of those already," she pointed out.

"What, the hot tub?" Had scoffed. "Nah, that doesn't count. You didn't enjoy that."

Leia turned back around, giving a little hum of acknowledgement. "Oh, I enjoyed it very much...for a little while," she said with a tinge of amusement. "And you did try to warn me..."

"Well, it's worth trying things out for yourself, right?" Satisfied that the roots of her hair had been sufficiently smoothed, Han raked his splayed fingers downwards, pulling through the full length of her thick tresses with a light touch and gentle traction, relishing the novel sensation of the strands unraveling and separating between his fingers as they slipped through the gaps like filaments of the finest unspun Demicot silk. The longest ends of her hair hung down to graze the skin of his thighs and groin, sweeping against the bare flesh there. The effect was much like the one he'd experienced earlier, as her hair swirled and floated around him in the bath. The sensation created an intriguing pleasure that heightened his ardor tenfold.

"What else do you like, Sweetheart?" he whispered. Some intuition told him that Leia—a woman who ordinarily never faltered when it came to making her wishes known—was finding it difficult to put her more intimate desires into words. Deciding that she could use a little more encouragement, he dipped his head down and murmured in her ear, "If you're not going to tell me, I'm just going to have to experiment."

Tilting her face to his, Leia's dark lashes flickered up as she met his gaze sidelong, though she remained mute. She didn't seem ready to voice her desires explicitly—not just yet—but Han could read the craving in her eyes plainly enough. He held her gaze and felt a rush of anticipation flowing through him, a powerful surge that intensified the ache in his groin and made his skin feel hot. Leia enjoyed the little games they played with each other as much as he did, and he recognized the sparkle that flashed in her eyes and the faint smile that played on her lips as she turned her face away once more. That eloquent look was a wordless challenge: _give it your best shot._

Han was more than happy to oblige. Lowering his head, he pressed a row of open-mouthed kisses down along the angle of her neck and across the contour of her shoulder, and then flicked his eyes upwards to gauge Leia's reaction. She sat with her hands resting lightly in her lap, focusing her eyes straight ahead with a hint of a smile on her lips, and looking very much like she was trying to hold back a laugh.

"Tough audience, huh?" he quipped. "Well, I'm just gettin' started." He bent his head again and retraced his earlier path in the opposite direction, trailing a line of warm kisses upward to nuzzle his mouth against her ear, pausing to draw the tender flesh of her earlobe between his lips, using the slide of his tongue and the graze of his teeth to elicit the desired response—he already _knew_ she liked that. Nevertheless, Leia held her position and maintained her stoic gaze, though Han could see her jaw clench just slightly.

" _Still_ no?"

Leia offered only a slight shrug, although Han thought he could now see the faintest twitch tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"I can see I'm going to have to get creative," Han muttered. Sweeping her hair to one side, he bowed slightly and dragged the tip of his tongue upwards along the back of her neck, from the level of her shoulder to the nape. He felt her shiver, and she made a tiny noise, although she tried to play it off as if she were clearing her throat.

Han grinned, though Leia's forward gaze prevented her from seeing his satisfied smile. "That's a _maybe_ ," he decided. "But I think we're headed in the right direction."

Slipping his hands up her sides and then around the curve of her ribcage, he cupped her soft breasts in his palms, circling his thumbs around the nipples, and feeling them stiffen under his light, rhythmic touch. He felt Leia draw a deep breath and, peering over her shoulder, watched her trap her lower lip between her teeth as her eyelids fluttered shut. Her silent but obvious response made his pulse quicken and sent a surge of pleasure racing through him. As he rolled the firm peaks between thumbs and forefingers, Leia dropped her pretense, arched backward and pressed her body against his, lifting one arm up and behind her head to thread her fingers through his hair. He continued to gently knead and stroke her supple flesh, employing his expert knowledge of her body to elicit the desired response, and was gratified at last to hear a quiet, dreamy sigh.

"I'd say that's a _yes_ ," he rumbled in her ear, and then focused his eyes on her near profile while his hands continued to caress and tease her pebbled flesh. Her lips were slightly parted and, even in the faint light, he could see that her cheeks were flushed, suffused with the heat of her arousal.

Putting that look of abandonment and bliss on Leia's face was yet another item near the top of Han's increasingly lengthy list of favorite things, and the knowledge that he alone had the privilege of making her feel like this—safe and loved and _desired_ —was more adrenalizing than the most powerful stimulant in the galaxy.

Even with her warm, lissome body wrapped in his arms, though, Han had to admit that it still felt a bit surreal. During the first year of their acquaintance, he'd driven himself half-insane with his own apparent inability to fight his attachment to her. Hell, he hadn't even been able to drag himself out of her orbit for longer than the duration of a mission, no matter how many times he told Chewie—and himself—that he was definitely, definitely, _definitely_ out of there, right after the next transaction.

Never the type to examine his own feelings too closely or to talk about them openly, he was nevertheless well aware of what they were—and by the time the first anniversary of their meeting had passed he knew he was a goner. Early into that second year, cursing himself for a fool, he'd privately acknowledged two things: first, that he was in love with Leia Organa and, second, that she would never have him. She'd made it abundantly clear that she had no intention of acting on the undeniable attraction that existed between them, nor of responding to his overtures with anything other than frosty forbearance—or, sometimes, heated repudiation. Still, some intuition told him that she returned his feelings, and so he'd persisted, quietly pursuing her while trying not to _look_ as though he were pursuing her. He'd employed countless thin excuses to remain in her vicinity, kicking himself all the while for being a sap and for holding on to hopeless fantasy.

Back then, fantasy alone had been enough to sustain him, although he had no idea where his ridiculous domestic notions were coming from at the time. He'd never for a minute imagined such cozy scenarios with any other woman. In fact, before Leia, the idea of _settling down_ had simply never crossed his mind. Then, halfway through his second year with the Alliance, he'd found himself entertaining preposterous visions of a life where he could hold Leia in his arms every night, touch and kiss her all he wanted, bring her pleasure and a measure of peace, and give her his unguarded heart. Even more absurdly, he'd begun indulging in fantasies of a life where she craved those things with him, too.

It had taken a considerable amount of time, more patience than he'd have given himself credit for, and a bit of blind luck, but he _finally_ had it— everything he'd ever wanted with Leia, including the most precious element of all: her trust. She'd placed herself in his hands this evening, both figuratively and literally, and his appreciation of that privilege knew no bounds.

Now, every slight, deliberate movement of her body against his own made Han's head swim in the most pleasant fashion, and he was far beyond simply wanting her; he _ached_ for her. But he wasn't quite ready to relent—not yet. For a woman whose vocation relied so heavily upon her skill with words, Leia had so far proved to be remarkably taciturn in bed and Han was beginning to view it as something of a personal challenge to draw explicit comments from her about what she liked and what she wanted. He just hoped that his shaky resolve would last long enough to elicit such confessions.

As he continued to caress her soft breast with one hand, he grazed the other down over the taut skin of her belly, venturing lower to rake his fingertips lightly through the silken curls between her thighs, then slipping his hand lower still, to explore the delicate, swollen flesh there. Leia writhed against the press of his fingers and shifted her hips to encourage his access, and then dropped her head back to his shoulder and released a low moan.

"Now _that_ —that is a definite yes," Han smiled and then lowered his voice as he murmured another soft entreaty against her ear, "Tell me what you like, Leia."

Instead of answering, she angled away from his intimate caress and then shifted her body around to face him, and for a moment Han thought she was going to comply with his request. Still positioned between his thighs, she rose up to her knees and wound her arms around his neck, and then leaned in as if to kiss him. Deciding not to press the issue, Han moved to meet her halfway, his eyes already drifting closed. Instead of a kiss, though, he felt the delicious sweep of Leia's tongue along his lower lip and then the tiny nip of her teeth, at the same time as she dropped one hand down to wrap around him, sliding over his rigid length with a slow but insistent stroke that made his breathing quicken and sent his eyes drifting back in his head.

For a long moment, he reveled in the pure pleasure of her touch before he dragged his eyes open once more and drew back enough to focus on her face, pale and luminous in the watery moonlight. A flicker of lightning illuminated her features, and in that brief moment he could see that her eyes had a taken on a hungry luster, the one that signaled the time for teasing and games had passed. Though she remained silent, the desire Han could see in those dark depths was far more eloquent than any words she might have uttered. He leaned his weight forward to encourage her to lie back—but then halted in surprise when she resisted, pressing one hand lightly against his chest. Han drew his head back and gave her a quizzical look, wondering at her apparent hesitation.

But Leia, it seemed, was anything but hesitant. Releasing him, she slid both palms up his chest, placed the heels of her hands against his shoulders and applied gentle pressure. Obeying her wordless command, Han braced his hands behind him for balance and shifted his position from kneeling to sitting, while Leia crept forward on her knees. She continued to guide his movements until he was lying flat on his back against the thick pallet of soft blankets, and then she followed him down, shifting her own position until she was poised above him with most of her weight on her hands, her long tresses spilling over her shoulders and falling around him in a silken curtain. Sliding his hands up the back of her thighs to her hips, Han gazed up at her through a haze of love and lust, and simply waited, perfectly content to let her lead the way and still hopeful that she might yet break her silence. A little thrum of excitement pulsed through his veins as she dropped to her elbows and brought her slight weight to rest fully against him, lowering her head to seek his kiss again. Tenderly coaxing his lips apart, she teased and probed with her tongue as she pressed her warm body against his, making Han feel lightheaded with the intensity of his desire for her and the strain of holding himself in check. He ran his hands all over her, squeezing and gently kneading her soft flesh, and was gratified when she deepened the kiss, moaning softly into his mouth as their tongues tangled in delicious sensuality.

They parted on a mutual gasp and then Leia shifted again, rising up and placing a knee on either side of his body to straddle him. Han straightened beneath her, anticipating that she was about to complete their union and finally ease the heavy ache between his legs—but Leia held herself fast. Drawing up to sit straight-backed astride his thighs, she then dropped one hand down between them to caress him again, as her sparkling eyes, filled with promise, locked on his.

Flashbacks of Leia's heartfelt admission that she wanted to please him illuminated the lust-darkened corners of Han's memory, and he recalled the look of uncertainty that had shadowed her eyes when, for a brief moment, she'd worried that she might somehow fall short of that goal. The expression in her dark eyes was far from uncertain now, though; there was love and desire in those shining depths, and he could tell by the confidence with which she handled him, the sureness of every full stroke and the perfect pressure of her fingers, that she no longer harbored any doubts on that score.

Yearning for her, Han's hands drifted down the slender contours of her sides to the swell of her hips, then gripped them lightly and applied gentle traction, wanting to guide her home. To his surprise, instead of complying with his unspoken request Leia released her hold around him and then slid her own hands down to rest lightly on top of his, stilling his movements. At the same time, her eyes flickered downwards and she bit her lip, creating an expression that looked oddly nervous to Han's eyes. It became clear to him then that there _was_ more she wanted to say but, whatever it was, she still couldn't quite bring herself to articulate it. Her uncharacteristic reticence was at once enormously endearing and highly arousing, and made him crave her even more. Keeping his gaze trained on her shadowed face, he rubbed his thumbs in tiny circles over the soft swell of her hips.

"C'mon, Sweetheart," he urged softly. "You can tell me."

Leia quirked a smile as if in acknowledgement of his acuity, and then drew a deep breath. "What I like," she began, and then stopped short and dropped her head back for a moment, releasing a heavy sigh as the trailing ends of her hair brushed across Han's knees. Straightening up once more, she met his gaze in the dim light and drew another deep breath, as if for courage. "I like it when you...talk to me," she confided, her soft voice barely carrying over the sound of the storm. She held his gaze for a long moment, waiting for his response.

Han blinked and stilled the movements of his hands. "When I _talk_ …?"

Leia skewed her lips to one side as her gaze slid away from his and she gave a little shrug. "I like the things you say to me when...when we're—" She glanced back at him, and then widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows at him meaningfully.

" _Ahh_ ," A slow smile spread across Han's face as understanding dawned. He felt a thrill of excitement course through his body, and his hands resumed their roaming caresses, traveling up from her thighs to the crease of her hips, then following the indentation of her waist and up to graze his thumbs along the underside of her breasts. "I see," he said, and then dropped his voice to its lowest octave, generating a deep rumble that he knew would elicit a shiver from her. "You like it when I talk dirty to you?"

" _Dirty_ … _!_ " Leia's scandalized tone and slightly self-conscious laugh only deepened Han's adoration. Then, rocking her hips against him lightly and holding his gaze with her shining eyes, she shrugged again and said, simply, "Yes."

Han grinned; although she'd never before stated as much, her confession came as no surprise. Over the course of their intimate relationship he'd become keenly aware of how warmly Leia responded to those fierce whispers and to the raw, unbridled words that often escaped him when he was lost in a haze of pleasure and skating close to the edge of release. He _knew_ it drove her wild, but to hear her make that admission aloud thrilled him nonetheless.

With the window at her back, Leia's face was somewhat shadowed, and the occasional shimmer of lightning wasn't quite enough to let him see her blush, but he could feel the hot flush rising to the surface of her skin elsewhere. His smile widened.

"That's good, Princess, 'cause I can't help it." Deciding that her revelation deserved an equivalent response, he added, "You drive me out of my mind." In truth, he was already conscious of the fact that he only _really_ gave full vent to his carnal feelings for Leia when he was simply too far gone to guard his tongue. He was glad to have further confirmation that, far from finding his lustful words crude or distasteful, she actually enjoyed hearing them. He softened his voice then, letting her hear the edge of vulnerability that, by force of habit, he usually tried his best to conceal. "You make me lose all control, Sweetheart."

Leia's eyes flashed in the dim light. She rested her palms lightly on Han's abdomen and her fingertips began to trace a slow and heated path up and over his chest to brush across his shoulders, and then circled back to stroke down along his sides. Han shuddered as her fingers fluttered over his skin with a touch that left every nerve ending tingling.

"I like _that,_ too." Leia murmured.

"What?" Between the movement of her hands and the tantalizing sensations she was eliciting with the slow friction of her hips and thighs against him, it was getting difficult to think straight or keep track of the conversation.

"When you…." she cut her eyes back at him and gave him a knowing smile. "When you _lose_ yourself like that. And when you get a bit…." As her words trailed off, she dragged her nails lightly across his skin to illustrate her meaning.

Following the direction of her thoughts, Han's eyebrows climbed. "A bit... _rough?_ " he clarified, his voice strained with excitement and heightened desire.

Leia laughed again, no doubt amused by his half-strangled tone, but she nodded. Dragging her fingertips down from his shoulders, she grazed over his pectoral muscles and then brought her hands together to follow the trail of coarse hair down the center of his abdomen. Han's breath caught in his throat as she wrapped the fingers of one hand around him once more and began stroking and teasing him with a confident touch, her half-lidded, smoldering eyes locked on his. Han's vision swam and he moaned low in his throat, unable to help himself. Leia's face crinkled up in a delighted smile.

"And I love _that_ ," she said, continuing her caresses with relentless and exquisite pressure. She leaned down, never stilling the delectable motion of her hand between them, to murmur another revelation against his lips. "I love the sound of your voice in my ear when we're—" She interrupted herself to capture his mouth with her own, kissing him deeply and sliding her tongue against his in a way that left him in no doubt as to her meaning.

Han groaned again and tightened his grip on her, lost in the pleasure of her kiss and the smooth stroke of her hand, charmed as much by her shy half-confessions as he was by the boldness of her touch. It took every bit of self-restraint he possessed not to roll her over, pin her beneath him, and give full rein to his desire without further delay. He could feel the potential that crackled in the air between their bodies; it promised a wild and heated frenzy of the sort that so often erupted between them. But, while he relished the intensity of such encounters with Leia, another idea had just occurred to him. He fought for a few more moments of self-control.

As Leia drew back, Han caught her gaze in the next flicker of lightning that illuminated her features. _"Vet valle amehili kia min prek Corellisi, eh?"_ he ventured, and then grinned when he heard and felt Leia catch her breath. He knew there was something about the sound of his native tongue that affected Leia deeply and elevated her desire to a fever pitch. He laughed, gratified by her response, by her slow smile and the glimmer of lust in her eyes. She nodded, acknowledging the truth of his supposition.

Han trailed his fingers down the length of her spine. "Turn around, Sweetheart."

Straightening above him, she gave him a quizzical eyebrow.

Han motioned with one hand to show her what he meant. "Face the other way," he explained.

Leia's slightly bemused expression remained, but she moved to comply, briefly unseating herself before turning away from Han and then straddling him again, this time facing the rain-lashed window. She cast a glance over her shoulder, sending the trailing ends of her long hair sweeping across his abdomen. "Like this?"

Han drew a sharp breath at the cool, silken caress, and then released it in a rush. "Yeah, now lie on your back," he instructed. "Stretched out, right on top of me."

Leia's eyes flashed with a hint of uncertainty as she continued to gaze down at him over her shoulder.

"You're not too heavy, Sweetheart. C'mon," he prompted, reaching for her as he offered an encouraging smile. "Trust me."

With a puzzled smile, she acquiesced, turning to face forward once more before settling her weight intimately across his hips. Then, gathering her hair over one shoulder, she leaned back slightly and allowed him to guide her movements as she continued to recline. Han eased her back until she was lying supine on top of him with her head pillowed on his shoulder, and then drew his bent legs up to bracket hers, and wrapped her entirely in his arms. The weight of Leia's body resting fully atop his was strangely satisfying and made him wonder why he'd never suggested this arrangement before. It had occurred to him—rather belatedly—that this position would not only negate much of their height difference, it could offer a distinct advantage, considering Leia's stated preference for hearing his voice in her ear. Her body was so small and compact, and her weight so slight, it caused him no discomfort at all to cradle her like this. In fact, it felt incredible. Furthermore, it gave him full access to every centimeter of her body and placed the delicate crescent of her ear within millimeters of his lips.

He took full advantage of that access now, nuzzling her ear as he dragged his fingers up from her knees, trailing along the length of her thighs, and then rubbing lightly over the smooth skin of her belly and abdomen, before drifting up to cup the swell of her breasts. The sound of Leia's ragged breathing and the feel of her pebbled skin responding to his touch made him feel feverish with want, and he allowed his hands to roam freely all over her body then, driven by the desire to touch her everywhere at once. Leia indulged her own desires, dipping a hand down between them to resume her deft and confident stroke of his rigid flesh, pressing him intimately against her own heated body, while the fingers of her other hand, arched above her head, entwined in his hair. The scent of her, the slow undulation of her hips and the delicious friction from her hand combined to send Han half out of his mind with lust.

As he struggled to maintain a tenuous grip on his composure, Leia's soft cries of pleasure became whispered words of entreaty that erased what little remained of his restraint. With her slender frame draped across him at the perfect angle and the warm crux of her body pressed so intimately close, it required only a slight adjustment of Leia's grip on him and a minor shift in his own position, and he was sinking home, groaning his own deep pleasure at the rush of sensation, which was trebled by the sound of Leia's breathless gasp and the low moan of satisfaction that followed it.

" _Stars_ ," she breathed. "That's...so… _good_."

Han grinned at the deep sincerity in her voice, though it took him a moment to summon the breath to speak again, momentarily overwhelmed and rendered speechless by how _fantastic_ she felt—succulent, snug and incredibly warm. He cleared his throat and tried his best to focus on extending their little game. "Mmm, 's pretty good, Princess," he murmured. "Plus, it makes it easier to do _this_." Playfully, he traced the shape of her ear with the tip of his tongue.

Leia squirmed and laughed, though Han held her fast. He was, in effect, embracing her petite form with his entire body, and she couldn't go far. She arched her neck to take her ear out of his reach for a moment and then tilted it back, tacitly asking for more. Han complied, nibbling the tender flesh of her earlobe around a smile that could not be suppressed.

Leia's enthusiasm for their most intimate moments gave him a pleasure so deep he couldn't even fully articulate it to himself. It filled his mind, swelled his heart and tightened his throat with a sensation akin to the natural high he felt whenever he punched the _Falcon_ into hyperspace—a rush of mingled joy, pride and exultation, and other fleeting feelings he could hardly name. The knowledge that she craved his touch and reveled in his affections was gratifying enough, but the way she opened herself to him so playfully, unguardedly and completely…well, that was something else, something truly precious that he hadn't anticipated, even over the years when he was actively pursuing a relationship with her. Her unequivocal trust in him was a gift and a boon that he appreciated more than he could ever express in words, falling back instead on his usual banter and hoping that Leia understood what it meant to him. His gut told him that she _did_ understand, and that she continued to reveal herself to him in new ways precisely because what they had together was precious to her, as well. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

"And as a _bonus feature_ ," he intoned against her ear, deliberately lowering his voice to its deepest timbre, "my hands are free, too." Keeping one palm warmly caressing a soft breast, he trailed the fingers of his other hand down from her breastbone in a meandering line, lightly traversing the trembling plane of her abdomen and pausing to trace a tiny circle around her navel before descending lower to gently explore the apex of her thighs where they were intimately joined. Leia whimpered and arched her hips in response, a movement that sent another tingling wave of intense pleasure through Han, suffusing his entire body with heat. His reflexive, answering groan raised a shudder that prickled Leia's heated skin beneath his hands. It was almost too much, and he had to still his movements and hold his breath for a moment to regain control.

Leia shifted then and tried to twist her upper body, clearly angling to see his face, but the twin braces of his arms held her firmly in place. Apparently coming to the hazy realization that her range of motion was greatly restricted, Leia gave a small _hmpf_ of resignation and settled back, stretching languidly against him and reaching her arms above their heads to thread her fingers through his hair once more.

"Fine, so _you_ can multitask, Hotshot," she said, a little breathlessly, "but what about me? I'm, uh..." She gave a light laugh and another squirm of her hips to highlight her predicament. "I can't even really _move_."

"Ah," Han smiled against her cheek. "Leave that to me."

Shifting under her slight weight, he drew his knees up, planted his feet in the plush blankets and pressed his splayed hand down low on Leia's belly to keep her steady as he flexed his hips in a slow and controlled stroke. For Han the resulting sensation was exquisite, nearly short-circuiting his brain. Judging by the way Leia gasped and suddenly clutched at his bracing arm, it was good for her, too. Although he enjoyed the challenge of trying to provoke more explicit commentary from her, in truth, Leia's answering moan was everything he wanted to hear. The confirmation of her deep pleasure was evident in her soft cries, and in the way she met his movements with slight movements of her own. He repeated the smooth roll of his hips, eliciting the same wordless but joyful response from the princess, and couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. Keeping her body pressed tightly to his, he continued the slow undulation of his hips, setting up an easy and unhurried rhythm that drew rising sounds of ecstasy from Leia as she arched her back and breathed his name.

Encouraged by her response, Han settled into his languid pace and they sank slowly together into a state of sensual bliss. The sublime sensation of Leia's lithe body enmeshed with his own, the warmth and the enticing scent of her flooded his senses and set his innermost thoughts free. Unbridled by Leia's revelation, the words he always wanted to say to her in such intimate moments fell easily from his lips. Erotic whispers and raw, carnal urgings mingled with sweet words of adoration that poured out of him in a heated tide, punctuated by Leia's breathless gasps and the low, keening sounds that escaped her throat as he moved within her.

Then, through the haze of his own euphoria, Han was astonished and elated to hear Leia's inarticulate moans and ragged sounds of pure pleasure begin to shape themselves into half-choked words. He had a limited understanding of the language, but he knew Alderaani when he heard it. Although the pitch and volume of her voice ebbed and flowed with the rush of each breath, he was almost certain she was invoking the name of some ancient deity, along with a few fervent supplications offered up in _his_ name as well. Sliding a hand between her legs once more, he picked up the cadence of his rhythm, the change in pace and the delicate touch of his fingers eliciting another rapturous moan. Leia pressed her head back against his shoulder as her disjointed murmurings turned into a breathless stream of words and phrases he'd never fully imagined hearing from her lips—raw, unbridled sentiments that matched his own, though they sounded delightfully shocking, coming from the princess. The effect on Han was incendiary, like a spark to dry tinder, and he felt the surging of his body in powerful response. In an instant he knew that Leia talking dirty to him was rocketing straight to the top of his list of favorite things, surpassing all others. He grinned against her ear, whispering his approval and encouragement, pleased that her confession had proved as liberating for her as it had for him.

Leia's grip tightened on his steadying arm as her gasped entreaties became fierce commands, her rich voice lowering to a soft growl that raised all the fine hairs on Han's body and sent his blood thundering through his veins. Rendered almost senseless by the intensity of the moment, he had only a dim awareness of Leia's movement as she bent her knees and found a foothold in the thick padding of blankets beneath them. She then began to move atop him in a subtle tempo of her own, making tiny, tight little revolutions of her hips that formed a delicious counterpoint to his own driving rhythm. Enveloped in her slick heat and pushed to the edge by the sweet synthesis of angle and friction, Han felt the molten surge that presaged his release. He closed his eyes against the erotic sight of her and felt his breathing grow ragged as he gripped her hard and battled for enough self-control to take her with him to the brink. An instant later Leia's entire body drew taut as a wire and arched against him. The hot pulse of her consumed him, severing the last filament of his self-restraint, and all semblance of control tumbled into oblivion. Swept hard and fast over the edge on the wave of her shuddering release, Han's whole body thrummed with the rare, wild sound of Leia's beautiful voice, urging him on.

 **-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-**

Sleep was little more than a heartbeat away when the sound of Leia's voice—softer now and slightly hoarse with impending slumber—penetrated Han's thoughts once more and pulled him back to hazy awareness.

"So...are we going out in the morning?" she murmured. "To buy a proper bed?"

With Leia's head resting on his chest and her body tucked perfectly into the crook of his arm, the soothing comfort of her warm, bare frame nestled against his own combined with the measured rise and fall of her breathing to lull Han into a state of dreamlike bliss. He struggled for a moment to gather the energy to answer her. " _Mmmm_...dunno," he responded at length in a lazy drawl, not bothering to open his eyes. "I kinda like our little burrow here."

"Me, too." He felt Leia smile against his skin. "Although it might be a little awkward when Chewie's around or Luke drops by."

Han grunted in sleepy acknowledgement and began to drift away again, his sated state and the coziness of their makeshift bed proving to be too powerful a pull to resist. But Leia wasn't done talking yet.

"Maybe we could camp out in the living room every now and then...relive old times and rough it a little," she mused aloud, tilting her head up against his shoulder. "Like that time on Shantipole when we lost all comm signals and had to hike blind through the Cordef Wilds to get to the extraction point?" She traced a finger in a meandering pattern down the centre of his chest and back again. "You know, I'm still convinced that you _deliberately_ left behind the second survival bag so we'd have to share a sleep sack."

At that, Han's eyes cracked open. Angling his head down, he put on his most affronted expression. "I told you then and I'm tellin' you now, Princess," he growled, "that was _not_ a premeditated attempt to get you to sleep with me. I was in kind of a hurry when I grabbed the stuff from the shuttle—it was _on fire_ , remember? I only had a minute to grab the basics."

Leia's eyebrows climbed as she gazed back up at him, her head tilted back against his shoulder. "Well, _I_ could have taken a bag if you hadn't shoved me out of the hatch like some kind of—."

"Listen, Your Highness," Han interrupted, squinting in mock irritation at her playfully mulish expression, "that shuttle could've blown up at any second, with _you_ in it. I wasn't taking any chances."

" _Right_." Leia dropped her head back down and wriggled against him, nestling in tight. " _Sure_."

Her skeptical tone told Han that she still wasn't buying that explanation, although it was the honest truth. He supposed he deserved her skepticism, though, considering the many other occasions when he'd stretched the plausibility of certain situations in order to get closer to her. Still, she gave a soft snort and then lifted her head once more to smirk up at him. " _On fire,"_ she echoed with mild derision. _"_ All I saw was a little flare of sparks from underneath the console. I've seen you put out worse fires than that aboard the _Falcon_ , with nothing but your shirt."

Han shrugged. "Well, anyway, it worked out didn't it? We got through it." He angled his head down once more and offered a smug smile. "And you _did_ sleep with me that night. Technically."

"What? No," she said, furrowing her brow. "I didn't _sleep_ with you that night, in any sense of the word. I didn't sleep at all, as I recall."

Han released an exaggerated sigh. "What a selective memory you have, Your Worship. You slept so hard you snored like an asthmatic nerf, and nearly got us caught when that Imp patrol passed by."

Leia knuckled him lightly in the ribs and rested her head once more, though she kept her eyes turned up and fixed on his profile. "I do not _snore_ ," she said in an indignant tone. "I was getting over a cold."

" _Right_ ," he echoed, peering down at her upturned face, limned in moonlight. "A cold that didn't stop you kissing me when you thought I was asleep."

Leia ducked her head to bury her face against his chest, but not before he saw the flash of surprise in her eyes, followed swiftly by a look of mild embarrassment. Han grinned as he felt heat blooming in the cheek she pressed against his skin. He knew full well that she hadn't realized until now that he'd been awake for that surreptitious little caress. He planted a smiling kiss into her hair, enjoying the delicate scent of Arallute that clung to the still-damp strands.

"Hey, it's alright, Princess," he teased, "you couldn't help yourself. Gorgeous guy like me? All snuggled up in a sleep sack with you, apparently unconscious and at your mercy? Perfectly understandable."

Han envisioned the exaggerated roll of her eyes at the same time as he heard her soft chuff of laughter. "I seem to recall _you_ sneaking in a kiss, too, Flyboy," she said dryly. "I wasn't sleeping so hard I missed _that_."

"No witnesses. Never happened," he grinned.

He had indeed pressed a kiss—maybe more than one—against the top of her braided head as she lay in his arms. That long-ago night wasn't the first they'd spent together in the same bed, circumstances in the service of armed rebellion being what they were, but it was the first time they'd been in such close physical contact for so long with no one else around to see them. And though they hadn't discussed it then, nor at any time since, Han recognized now that that night had been an early turning point in their relationship. They'd taken silent comfort in each other that evening—not in a sexual way, but through mere proximity and simple touch. He'd reveled in the sensation of her nestled in his arms, marveling over her sudden and inexplicable lack of resistance to his offered embrace, and worrying in case he somehow fucked it up—which he had, almost inevitably, at first light. Han smiled to himself, thinking about how simultaneously thrilling and frustrating that evening had been for him, back when they were still dancing around each other, never revealing true feelings or saying what they wanted to say. Back when his lifelong commitment to utter independence and freedom from attachments was in its death throes. He gave Leia a little one-armed squeeze, pondering over how far they'd come since then.

Leia's fingers resumed their lazy pattern, tracing a finger along the hard line of his collarbone to the hollow of his throat. "That was a very memorable evening, Han," she said, her tone softening with wistful recollection.

Han gave a short laugh. "I won't forget it anytime soon, either, Princess. We had a run of very bad luck on that mission, and some pretty close calls. We were damn lucky to _survive_ it."

Leia gave a thoughtful little hum. "True. But none of that is what makes it stand out in my memory. I think it was how you _were_ that night…." Her voice trailed off, and Han could almost feel her thinking.

"What do you mean, _how I was?_ What'd I do?"

"Oh, it was more the _way_ you did it. I think that was perhaps the first time I fully realized how completely you...you _understood_ me. And how much you truly cared about me." She tilted her head up and lifted her gaze back to his. "I think _you_ realized then how much you cared about me, too."

Han slanted a glance down at her upturned face. "Nah, Princess. _Caring_ about you happened a long time before that. That night was the first time I faced the fact I was straight-up _in love_ with you, and there was no going back. Made me shake in my boots a little."

"Is that why you were so horrible to me the next day?"

"I wasn't—".

"Yes, you were." she interjected firmly.

"Okay, I was," Han conceded. "I dunno, Sweetheart. Maybe…" He gave a little sigh of resignation. "To realize that someone else…that my whole life was going to be affected by whatever happened to you, or with you. Or _without_ you. That you'd become so… _important_ to me, and I couldn't—I couldn't even…." He was stammering now, and he gave a short laugh at his own inarticulate faltering. "It scared the shit out of me, Leia," he said bluntly. "So much so, I had to fall back and regroup a little, I guess."

Leia stretched up to give him a soft kiss on the jaw. "Well, never mind. In spite of everything, all the danger and discomfort and awkwardness, I will always remember that night. In fact, as strange as it sounds, I'd say it was one of the best evenings of my life, somehow."

"Yeah," Han nodded in agreement, stroking his fingertips over the curve of her bare shoulder and down the graceful arc of her arm where it lay draped across his body. "Ranks pretty high on my list, too, Sweetheart." Finding her hand, he slipped his fingers through hers and gave a gentle squeeze. "But _this_ is the new best night, for me."

Leia shifted in his arms, and Han loosened his embrace to allow her to turn until she was nestled half-prone against him. She crossed her arms over his chest, lacing her fingers, and rested her chin on her hands. The sight of her made Han's throat tighten. Silhouetted in the backdrop of watery moonlight that filtered in from the windows, she made a very pretty picture. Her pale skin was radiant with moonlight, contrasting sharply against dark hair that tumbled in waves down her back and over her shoulders, brushing against and tickling his bare skin. She gazed at him with a rapt expression, her big brown eyes alight with curiosity and unabashed adoration. Han allowed himself a moment to simply gaze down at her, swallowing the lump in his throat as he gathered another treasured memory for his collection, to be filed away for future solace.

"The _new_ best night?" Leia queried with a tone of amusement, interrupting his thoughts. "What was the _old_ best night of your life, then?"

Han reached out to smooth a hand over her hair, brushing back a few stray tendrils that curtained her features and then met her eyes with a slow smile. "That first time," he said in a low timbre, "on the way to Bespin, when I walked out of the fresher and found you sittin' on the edge of my bunk, waiting for me."

It was obvious from the knowing smile that stole across Leia's face and the way she dropped her eyes for a moment and then slanted a shy look up at him through long lashes that she recalled that night as vividly and as fondly as he. He also noticed that the flush that had faded from her cheeks had blossomed once more, and he couldn't help but smile at Leia's sudden display of self-consciousness. Just minutes ago she had been writhing in his arms, urging him on with sensational language that had turned an already memorable experience into something of a milestone, and yet his mention of the profound turning point in their relationship—or even that stolen kiss in the dark on Shantipole, so long ago—seemed to recall her natural reserve and sense of decorum to the fore. That duality of Leia's personality was one of the many things he found fascinating about her, and he adored both the modest, demure side and the bold, confident side of her character in equal measure. Hell, there wasn't much about Leia he _didn't_ adore. He was just happy to know that she returned his sentiments in full, and that they were finally done with all the quarrelsome uncertainty that had characterized the early days of their relationship.

He watched as Leia slowly returned her gaze to his. There was a teasing light in her eyes, and she gave him a playful smile. "Do you still have those lucky red socks?" she ventured, raising one fine eyebrow.

Han grinned. "You bet I do. I'm gonna frame 'em, and put 'em up on the wall right above our bed."

That elicited another snort of laughter. " _Of course_ you are. Then where are you going to put the 'galaxy's biggest mirror', Hotshot?"

"Well, we've got four walls, right? Three big mirrors and some lucky socks in a frame, maybe with a little spotlight over 'em, and the room's got all the decoration it'll ever need. Just leave it to me."

Leia's bubbling laughter bordered dangerously on the edge of becoming a giggle and Han couldn't help but join in, pulling her tight against his side with one arm and planting another kiss on the top of her head. The chances of her letting him get anywhere near the bedroom with his dubious decorating skills were slim to none, he knew, but he enjoyed teasing her about it anyway.

Leia's laughter finally subsided and she heaved a happy sigh as she settled back into her relaxed posture, her head lolling against his shoulder, her face still upturned to his. "So, what else is in this collection of favorite evenings?" she asked. "You seem to have quite a few…."

Han thought carefully for a moment, blinking away the last of his drowsiness as he pondered over how to broach the next _favorite_ on his list in a way that would make sense to Leia. The one he had in mind had been a difficult evening for her, and one he knew she didn't like to recall, much less dwell upon—and for good reason. Yet to him, it was a precious and indelible memory that marked another watershed moment in their shared journey. He took a breath, and then lifted a hand to caress her cheek. "That night on Endor, after you told me about Vader."

Leia gave a mild start and blinked, and then her eyes widened. Han saw the glimmer of mirthful light that had been shining in their depths grow dim, at the same time as the smile faded from her lips. "I don't see how _that_ makes the list, Han," she said in a quietly serious tone. "That wasn't a very good day at all, at least for me."

"Maybe not at first," he concurred, lifting and toying with a strand of her hair. "Not the morning you spent worrying yourself sick about it, or the afternoon you spent trying to work up the nerve to tell me—but afterwards? Yeah," he smiled. "That night was _great_. It's on my list because…." He paused, chewing on his lip as he gathered his thoughts. "Well, 'cause that's the first time, I think, you really believed I was here to stay," he said. He wound the long lock of silken hair around his finger a few times before releasing it, watching it unfurl and fall in a dark wave beside her cheek before he met her eyes once more. "That's the first night you completely trusted me, Leia, without any doubts. When you _knew_ you could count on me, no matter what, one hundred percent." He fell silent, eyeing Leia as she gazed steadily back at him, her eyes shining.

"And that's important to you," she murmured. It wasn't a question so much as a quiet affirmation, as if Leia were mentally filing that information away for future reference. After a long moment, she broke into a tender smile. "And now you have a _new_ favorite night to add to your list."

"The first of many to come," Han predicted, beaming a wide smile. "Speaking of which," he said, shifting up onto one elbow and gently extricating himself from Leia's warm embrace. Pushing back the edge of the soft blanket they'd drawn over themselves, he climbed to his feet and then took a moment to stare down at Leia. She'd rolled onto her back as he left the pallet, and lay now with one arm bent behind her head and the other draped over her waist, knees bent and knocked together in a relaxed pose as she smiled up at him. The pale light from the windows illuminated her lovely figure, but she made no move to cover herself under Han's adoring gaze. He winked at her. "Wait here."

While their attentions had been focused on each other, the fury of the storm had finally passed. The night sky had cleared, and wan shafts of light from Chandrila's twin moons had emerged to illuminate Han's path back to the fresher, where he retrieved what remained of their forgotten bottle of wine and the glasses. Returning to the pile of tumbled bedding, he sat down cross-legged atop the blankets at Leia's side as she sat up and swiveled to face him, and then he handed her the two flutes.

"You read my mind," Leia smiled, mirroring his cross-legged position, her long hair tumbling over her shoulders to veil her bare body. "We barely had a sip of that before the power went out, but it was delicious. It would be a shame not to enjoy it before it loses its sparkle."

"My thoughts exactly. Besides, this is a celebration, ain't it? And what's a celebration without a toast?"

Leia's answering smile was bright enough to light the room as she extended each flute in turn for Han to pour out measures of the pale, effervescent liquid. She waited until he'd set the bottle down before passing one of the glasses back to him and then raising her own in salute.

Han lifted his glass in return and gave her his warmest smile. "A toast, Sweetheart. To our new home, our new life, and to many more nights like this one. _Kun ehern. Al via chakta."_

Leia's smile beamed even brighter as she held his gaze. " _Elevia para linea,_ " she answered his native Corellian with her own mother tongue. " _Chal veo rin, aki."_

In unison, they touched the delicate rims of their glasses together and then, lifting them to their lips, sipped the sparkling wine around shared, delighted smiles.

 **-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-**

 **The End**

 **A/N:** The End? Well, you know, it's not _the end_ , really. It's just the beginning. After all, we just devoted seven chapters and around 43k words to _a single night_ in the Organa-Solo household. We don't even know! It is what it is. This schmaltzy, fluffy smut is just what we need to write right now as an antidote to the stresses of real life and the general state of the world; we just hope you enjoy it, too. There's still a bed to buy (we promise, that chapter will be _considerably_ shorter than this one) and probably some paint samples to sort through? Han's still determined to get Leia to try out those kitchen counters and the Rogues may or may not be planning a housewarming party…. Stay tuned! – JG  & ED


	8. Chapter 8 - Acquisition and Exhibition

"Han," Leia breathed.

With his warm weight pressing her into the mattress, Leia moaned, luxuriating in the soft touch of his lips and the deft stroke of his hands.

Encouraged by her response, Han scorched a trail of kisses along her jaw, and down her neck.

Leia's eyes fluttered open, focusing over his shoulder, and her limbs suddenly froze. "Han," she whispered. "We have to stop."

"Why?" he asked, working his way back to nibble on her ear.

"Because the salesman is looking right at us."

"It's a _display_ model, Sweetheart," Han lifted his head and grinned. "Let him look."

* * *

 **A/N:** Every once in a while we decide to take a break from our marathon word fests because, seriously, we wrote c.10k words about Han and Leia in _a bubble bath_. So we attempted a 100-word drabble as an exercise in self-restraint. (It's still a little smutty, though. Hey, it's _us_.)


	9. Chapter 9 - Paint and Passion

**A/N: This little morsel is in honour of our dear friend Zyra. Uh, we mean** _ **Zee-ra**_ **. Whatever. You're wonderful! Happy birthday with lots of love. - JG & ED **

-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-

 **Paint and Passion**

 **By Justine Graham and Erin Darroch**

"What about this one?" Leia asked, lifting the paint chip to Han's eye level and giving him a quizzical tilt of her head. " _Tatooine Sand_. Do you like it?"

Han gave the sample a cursory glance and then offered a half-hearted shrug. "Not really," he said as he leaned back on straightened arms. Stretching out long legs, he crossed them at the ankle and eyed Leia with a faint smirk. "Reminds me of the mud flats on Lothal."

Sitting opposite him, cross-legged on the carpeted floor of their unfurnished bedroom, Leia narrowed her eyes. "You're not being especially helpful with this task, you know."

" _Well_ , Princess, that's prob'ly 'cause we've been at this _for over an hour,_ and we're no closer to making a decision than when we started," he groused good-naturedly. "Why don't we just forget it, and leave the walls the way they are?"

"We _can't_ leave them," she said, tossing the unwanted card down amongst the dozens of other rejected chips scattered around them on the floor. "It's only builder's paint; it needs a proper coat, and it has to be done before we get any furniture delivered—including that gigantic bed we just ordered. So, we need to come to an agreement on something. How about this?" she asked, picked up another chip and offering it up for inspection.

"Nah, that's worse than the last one. Looks like something that should be spread on agri-fields, not painted on the walls."

Leia turned the card over to read the back. "It's called _Spiced Caf_ ," she informed him.

"Sweetheart, it's _brown_ ," Han said pointedly. "They can call it whatever fancy name they want, but it's still brown, and I _don't like_ brown." Reaching down, he snagged a card at random and then held it up and waggled it while giving Leia a look of pure incredulity. "I mean, look at the names on these damn things. This one's called 'Sea Breeze'. How is that even a color? It ain't even _visible._ " With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the sample onto the growing pile of rejects and gave his head a doleful shake.

"I suppose if it were up to you this entire apartment would be painted starship grey," Leia mused mildly, browsing through the remaining paint chips.

"Somethin' wrong with grey?"

"Well," she replied, "there are _warm_ greys and there are _cool_ greys, so I guess it depends on—"

"Seriously?" Han swiped a hand over his face, looking decidedly pained. "Colours _…._ are warm? And cool?"

"Yes, seriously." Leia smirked. Tipping forward, she balanced on one outstretched arm while shuffling through the colour-coded stacks with her free hand. "Look," she urged as she straightened up once more. "This one's _warm_ ," she said, displaying a card in her left hand before showing the one she held in her right, "and this one's _cool_."

Obligingly, Han sat forward and squinted at the offered samples. He stared for a moment, mouth hanging slightly open, and then gave himself a little shake. Sitting back, he waved a careless hand in Leia's direction. "I don't get it. Just pick one. Whatever you want."

Leia hummed over the two colors for a moment longer, then tossed both into the rejection pile. "On second thought," she said, "I don't think grey will work at all. Too clinical."

Han released a long-suffering sigh.

Leia bit her lip against a smile. "I'm thinking...maybe a shade of green, the color of life? Something light-reflecting and pale…"

"Are there _warm_ greens and _cool_ greens?"

"Hm, let's see…."

"Leia." Han's tone was bone-dry. He slapped a hand down on the stack of green sample cards and gave her his sternest glare. "I was joking."

"But it's a good question," Leia protested, tugging another of the sample cards from beneath his flattened palm.

Han rolled his eyes and then rolled away, flopping onto his back with a defeated grunt and throwing one arm up over his face. "I'm goin' for a nap."

Leia snorted. "You don't take naps."

"I do when I'm completely bored out of my mind."

"Fine. If that's how you feel about it, why don't you go down to Miku's or The Five Sails and get us something to eat?"

"Why don't you just pick a color and then we'll _go out_ to eat," he countered, lifting his arm and peering at her with a hopeful expression.

"It won't take much longer...there aren't many colours left on my short list," Leia muttered, gazing down at the half-dozen cards in her hand that she had arranged in the shape of a fan as if she were playing a round of Sabacc. "If you don't want to help choose, you could gather up the rejects and put them in the recycler."

"That I can do."

Sitting up and then shifting into a crouch, Han began to pick up the swatches that were scattered across the plush cream-coloured carpeting. He had only collected a small stack in one hand when he suddenly paused and sat back on his heels.

"Huh."

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia watched as he lifted one of the cards close to his face, appearing to study it intently.

"Something wrong?"

He angled a sidelong glance at Leia, cut his gaze back to the card, and then reverted to her once more. Meeting her curious eyes, he flipped the card around so she could see the pale shade for herself. "This one's called _Shimmersilk_."

"Yes, and I've seen it already. Too pale for the lighting in this room, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, but it looks familiar. Reminds me of somethin'." Reaching out, he touched the edge of the card against her bare forearm and gave a little grunt. "See? Same exact shade." His eyes lit up with a mischievous sparkle. Glancing down at the stack of cards in his hand, he began shuffling through the deck with obvious purpose, a hint of a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "I bet there's more. Hm, let's see…" he mused as he selected another card. "Oh yeah. Your hair is definitely _Homogani Dream_." Shuffling forward on his knees, he edged closer and held the card against the heavy braid that trailed down over Leia's shoulder. "No wait, it's _Brandywine_. Definitely _Brandywine_." 

"This is _not_ helping."

"Sure it is." Flashing a playful leer, he stretched out one hand to remove the remaining sample cards from her grasp before tossing them blithely over his shoulder to send them fluttering to the floor. "It's helpin' me not be bored anymore."

Startled by his sudden movement, Leia leaned back a little, and then dropped back onto her elbows as he advanced—still clutching his own stack of cards—to position himself between her bent knees. She grinned up at him, recognizing his tactic for what it was, but enjoying the attention nevertheless. His hazel gaze roamed over her reclining figure and when his eyes met hers once more, she could see the telltale hungry gleam there.

She arched a querying eyebrow. "I thought you wanted to speed up this process, Hotshot, not slow it—."

" _Shhh-shhh_ ," Han interjected, his brow furrowing in exaggerated concentration as he sat back on his heels between her thighs and began rifling through the stack of paint samples once more. "Tryin' to think, Princess. Now, your lips..." He extended a card and held it up next to her cheek, his eyes roving thoughtfully between the colour swatch and Leia's mouth. " _Cambylictus Berry_? Ugh, no, that sounds a little weird."

"Han…."

"Wait, I got it," he said, tossing the chip to one side and plucking another from his array. He examined the colour swatch for a moment and then turned his eyes back to Leia's mouth. " _Kessinnamon Roll_. Yeah, that's it." His gaze lingered on her lips, his eyes darkening with growing desire. "Sounds pretty sweet, Princess. Care to let me...have a…taste?" As he spoke, he set down his collection of cards and leaned in with an impish twinkle in his eye, planting one hand beside her as he began moving forward, gradually easing her body backwards with the advance of his own.

Despite the fact that the sun was setting on yet another day in their empty apartment and they _still_ hadn't finalised the details of decor, Leia found herself unable—or at least unwilling—to resist Han's playful proposition. Succumbing to the gentle pressure of his body coming to rest against her own, she sank onto her back and reached up to guide his mouth down, smiling into their first sweet kiss. His lips were soft and warm, and still faintly laced with a hint of Crathulan spice from the lunch they'd shared a few hours before. She let her tongue flicker against the smooth flesh and was rewarded with a low groan as he opened his mouth a little wider and met her overture with a more heated response. One passionate kiss soon led to another—and then another—and within moments they were making out in earnest. Leia wrapped her arms and legs around his long body, holding him fast in her embrace as he dragged his lips from her mouth and began kissing his way along the line of her jaw.

" _Mmm-mmm-mmm_ ," he murmured into her ear, sending a rush of tingling warmth straight to her core and out to every limb. "I think _Kessinnamon Roll_ was a pretty good guess."

Leia laughed. "You do have a keen eye for colour, Flyboy," she mused. "I'm almost disappointed you're not going to show off more of these impressive new skills."

"Who says I'm done?" Halting his nuzzling of her neck, he then propped himself up on one elbow and brought his free hand up between them. With a lascivious grin, he flashed a single card that he held trapped between thumb and forefinger. On it was displayed a palette of several shades of rosy pink.

Leia blinked, nonplussed, and reached to take the card from him. "Which one are you looking at?" she asked, tilting the back of the chip to the fading light in an effort to read the faint Aurebesh names printed on its surface.

Han arched an eyebrow. " _Blushing Bouquet_ ," he replied.

"I see. And that's a match for….what? My tongue?" she queried, widening her eyes at him in what she hoped was a convincing display of innocence.

Han laughed as he reached down between them. In one smooth move, he slipped his fingers under the loose hem of her tunic and then ran his hand up to cup one Dramassian silk-covered breast. He gave her rapidly stiffening nipple a gentle flick with the pad of his thumb. "Not your tongue."

Leia's breathing hitched and every nerve ending in her body quivered in response. "I don't know," she said as she studied the card, doing her best to sound unaffected. " _Blushing Bouquet_ looks a bit too light to me. My guess is the one next to it. _Sparklemint Pink."_

"How much you wanna bet I'm right?" he said in a suggestive drawl.

Leia considered the opportunity. "Well…," she said at length, "if you're _wrong_ , you have to stop fooling around and _actually_ help me choose a decent colour for this room."

"Deal." Han replied promptly. "And if I'm right?"

Leia smirked up at him. "Isn't being right its own reward?"

" _Nah-ah-ah,_ Princess. I want a prize."

"Such as?"

"You know what."

Leia's stomach fluttered. A laugh bubbled up, unbidden, as it dawned on her what sort of prize Han would be angling for in this context. With some effort, she straightened her features and tried to summon her sternest tone of voice. "No way."

" _Yes_ way. And it's goin' _right up there_." He punctuated each of his words with a jab of his finger upwards toward the ceiling.

"We'll see about that," Leia said coolly.

"Yeah, Princess," Han intoned, reaching for the hem of her tunic and, with her help, tugging the garment upward and over her head. He tossed the top aside and sent his avid gaze roaming unabashedly over her body. His handsome face crinkled up in a delighted smile. "Yeah, _we'll see_."

 **-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-**

 **The End**


End file.
